On a Long Road
by Arsosah
Summary: Sometimes, I wonder what my life would've been like if I'd never written that stupid theme. If I'd been allowed to stay with my brothers. If I hadn't been forced to move from home to home.
1. The Theme

**On a Long Road  
**

**1. The Theme  
**

_Holding the receiver tight against my ear, I swear I can hear their voices. If they just pick up, it will be like they are here, with me. If they just pick up, maybe things will be like they should, maybe things will be okay. Maybe it will erase what happened.  
_

_But they don't pick up._

_Signals go by and I count them. Five. Eight. Ten. Seventeen. Hundreds. I close my eyes. They don't pick up and I'm still alone._

xXx

"So what he probably meant by this poem was-"

The bell rings and interrupts him in the middle of the sentence, and Mr. Syme quickly raises a hand, showing he has one more thing to add to today's lesson. Not that anyone cares, they all start to chatter and collect their stuff, moving around and toward the door.

"Kids," Mr. Syme says loudly to be heard over the noise they make, but I seem to be the only one paying attention. I have to. My grades have been falling - fast - and if I don't try to do anything about them, Darry will kill me. Not literally, but that doesn't matter. It will be a boring christmas break for me when my report card shows up in the mail box, even though I guess he already knows how I'm doing in school these days. It has been harder keeping secrets from Darry after all the things that happened. Sometimes it feels like he has his eyes on me constantly.

"Pages 80 to 85 for homework which is due tomorrow, and answer the questions I wrote on the black board!" Mr. Syme points at it, and then his eyes find mine where I sit in the front row. "Ponyboy, can you please stay for a minute?"

I sigh when I stand and start to walk up to the teacher's desk. Mr. Syme looks at me while pushing his glasses back up on his nose, and then busying himself with putting papers in a stack. Mine is somewhere in there too, a quick quiz at the beginning of the class, and I just know I failed it. I didn't know any of the answers at all.

"Go sit down somewhere, " Mr. Syme says, gesturing out into the soon empty classroom.

I go back and take my seat again, wondering what's going on, but then I see him pick up a blue notebook from the upper drawer in the desk. My heart speeds up. It's my theme. He promised to pass me with a C if I wrote a good semester theme. God, I really hope I made it okay, I don't know what I'll do if it's not good enough. What if it's not? I squirm in my seat - Darry will be so disappointed. English is my best subject, and all I have gotten in the past is A's.

When the last student has disappeared through the door, Mr. Syme rises and walks up to it and closes it. Then he takes the seat next to mine, putting the notebook down in front of him.

"I want to talk to you," he says, "about this." He taps it with a finger.

"Okay."

"Is this... what happened?" He sounds a bit sad. "Is this the truth?"

I nod silently at his questions, feeling nervous._  
_

Mr. Syme flips through it, and I notice he has put paper clips on some pages. He stops by the first one, finds a sentence with his index finger.

"It says here your brother hit you?"

His words surprise me, I wasn't expecting them at all. I sit up a bit straighter.

"Um, it wasn't -" I start, but he interrupts me.

"Is it true? Ponyboy?"

I frown slightly.

"Yeah, but it wasn't his fault," I say. My mind starts to work frantically. Why is he bringing _that_ up? I thought we were supposed to talk about my grades.

"It says here... _slapped me so hard that it knocked me against the door._ Ponyboy, did that happen?"

I swallow, glancing up to meet his eyes. His expression is serious, and I can see anger behind the sadness. But not anger towards me. I remember Johnny, how he turned up all black and blue now and then, how no one ever cared or asked him what had happened. How can this be such a big deal? What Darry did was nothing compared to that.

"He didn't mean it. He was just worried." I say the last with emphasis. Then I add, "I broke my curfew."

"So you think it was okay for him to hit you because of that?" Mr. Syme asks me gentle. I glance at him again. His tone is like Dad's, at the times he tried to soothe us when we were kids, when to show us things was all right. When there was no need for us to worry.

"Um. No."

"Has it happened before? After?"

"No, just that one time. Darry's not an abuser or anythin'... he's good!"

Mr. Syme doesn't say anything, just flips through the book to another page. I turn my gaze to the clock on the wall. My next class will begin in a minute, and if I don't start to move soon, I will be late.

"Mr. Syme-"

"Don't worry, Ponyboy, I'll give you a hall pass, okay?" He points down at the new page. "You had a big fight between... uh, the boys living on the west side, and your brother let you participate?"

"I would have anyway," I say flatly. "It wasn't Darry's decision, really."

"But he's your guardian?"

"Yeah..."

"Then it was his decision." He leaves no room for arguments.

I clamp my mouth shut. I'm not really sure what's happening here, but I know I don't like it.

"You're fourteen, and the other boys were sixteen and over, bigger and stronger than you. Not to mention what just had happened to you, and you just got out from the hospital the day before. A good parent wouldn't allow that. A good parent protect their kids."

I place my hands in my knee to not show how they start to shake. God, I want a cigarette. I close my eyes for a brief moment, wishing I was anywhere but here. I shouldn't have written the stupid theme. This is not going well. This is not what I meant when I wrote it.

"Ponyboy, what do you say about all this? You're friends with criminals, you smoke all the time, your brother doesn't lock your door at night so anyone can come into your house-"

"But I wrote why," I hurry to say, finally hearing something I can defend. "And we don't have anythin' to steal either."

"Well, that's another thing that worries me," Mr. Syme says. "You're pretty thin, Ponyboy. You get enough food at home?"

I stare at him. "Yeah! I mean, food's never been a problem or anythin'. Sure, we ain't rich but Darry gets me what I need, I promise!"

Mr. Syme sighs. "I'm not so sure about that," he says.

I can't believe this!

"My family is just fine and me and my brothers do well so you don't have to ask me these things," I force out, starting to pick up my things. My books, my pen... where is my pen? "Can you please give me the hall pass? I have to go to class." I refuse to look at him, so I just stare straight forward.

In the same time the bell rings, and I throw a glance at the door. I hate being late, getting all looks on me when I step inside the classroom.

"I'm sorry, but I do care. You're an excellent student, Ponyboy, and I feel I have to do something to help you."

I breathe in through my nose and try to calm down. I know it won't help me if I start to yell at him. I have to show him that I'm all right, that there's no need for him to worry about me. I turn to him again and try to smile.

"That's nice and all, Mr. Syme, but the state is already checkin' up on us. We had this hearing thing and the judge said I got to stay with Darry. It says in there too." I nod at the notebook.

"Yes, I'm aware of that. But did they knew all this? Did you tell them about the abuse? About the kick in your head? The gun your friend gave to you? Well, everything that's going on in your house?"

I feel speechless. The abuse? Is that the way he sees it? But he's wrong - there's no abuse. No teacher cared about Johnny, but one little slap in my face will make everyone go nuts? I hug my books against my chest.

"I don't think your brother's acting like a parent should do, and maybe you all need some help to-"

I glare. "We don't need your help! Everything's _fine_!"

He still looks sad. "I'm sorry," he says. "But it is my duty as a teacher to report any suspicions of mistreatment against my students."

My eyes widen. "No! Please don't! I promise, Mr. Syme, it's not like I wrote it. It's just a stupid theme!" I almost stumble over the words. "It's not really what happened. I-"

"I have already made the call, Ponyboy. And I gave them a copy of this too." He picks up my notebook. "I just wanted you to know why I had to do this. I can see that you are upset, but one day I'm sure you will thank me for this. You will understand when you're older."

I sit frozen-like in my seat as he rises and walks back to his desk. He takes a paper, assuming the promised hall pass, but I don't want it. I don't _care_.

I scramble to my feet so fast my chair almost gets knocked to the floor, and I head for the door before Mr. Syme can stop me.

"Ponyboy," he says as I reach the door handle. I just give him once glance before I push the door open with my shoulder.

I don't run to my next class. First I think I should head for the restroom, but a second thought takes me to my locker. I throw in my books and take my jacket and backpack, and then I run down the hallway and out through the front doors.

It's raining, but I barely notice. All I can think of is getting home, so Darry can fix this. I'm sure he can. He can call Mr. Syme and explain, this is all just a misunderstanding, and he will call our social worker and make sure nothing is going to happen. They can't do this to us! After all that happened, with Johnny and Dally. They won't take me away from my brothers.

They can't.

xXx

Soda has his arm thrown over my shoulders. We sit in the couch in the living room while Darry paces the floor. He stops and turns to face me, from the other side of the coffee table.

"What exactly did you write, Ponyboy?" he asks me.

"I don't know." I drag my arm over my eyes. I try hard not to cry, but it's not very easy. "Everythin' I guess."

"Everything what? That I beat you? About our fights? _What_, Pony?"

I press myself closer to Soda. I'm not scared of Darry's anger - I'm scared of the betrayed look in his eyes. I just realize I threw him to the wolves. But I didn't mean it. I never meant for this to happen. At the same time I told my brothers about what Mr. Syme said, they both looked more worried than I have ever seen them before.

"I - I just... Dar, I just had to write it down!"

"And then you thought it was a good idea to give it to your _teacher_?"

I sniff. "No. I don't know, Darry." I sniff again, feeling the tears welling over. "It was mostly about Johnny and Dally. I wanted people to know... I didn't think..."

Soda tightens his grip around me. I can feel his heart beating fast.

"Hey, Dar," he says. "Calm down."

Darry just stares at him instead of me.

"There's no need for us to argue about this," Soda continues awkwardly. "Maybe the state won't care. They know about what happened and you got to keep the custody before. You know that."

I don't know if Soda's words soothe him, but Darry sinks down in the recliner. He puts his elbows on his knees and hides his face in his hands. I look up at Soda, uncertain, and he forces out a smile.

"It will be okay, Pony," he says, and I want so hard to believe him.

xXx

The knock on the door comes two hours later, and everything just stops. I drop my pen and look at Darry at the same time Soda turns up in the kitchen doorway, his face pale.

"Shit, what are we gonna do?" he whispers.

Darry's face is hard. "I guess I have to answer it," he says through his teeth, and then he brushes past Soda.

"Is it the state?" I whisper to Soda as he sits down next to me.

"I don't know," he whispers back, but I think we both know. No one knocks on our door. Knocks always mean bad news.

We're silent, trying to listen to the voices from the hall; Darry's strong one, a woman's calm. I recognize it even if I don't want to. It is our social worker, coming to check up on us. I wonder if we really thought this would happen. We have cleaned the house spotless, but I don't think any of us really believed she would come. Maybe we all hoped she wouldn't.

But she's here now, and I can hardly breathe.

"Ponyboy? Soda?" Darry suddenly calls, but his voice is oddly strained. "Come here for a second."

I don't want to, but I follow Soda. Slowly. Our social worker, Ms. West, stands just inside the door, and beside her a man I've never seen before. He's big, as tall as Darry but fatter, and his face is red. I look at Darry. He holds a paper in his hands. They're shaking.

I grip Soda's arm. "No," I say, stopping, _knowing_. "No!"

Darry turns to look at me. I remember that face, the horrified look in his eyes, the devastated expression. It's the same as the night he hit me, the night I ran away and caused all this.

"What's this about?" Soda demands to know, glaring at everyone. With his arm he pushes me back to stand behind him. He gets it too. "You ain't takin' him!"

"Soda..." Darry says, but then he swallows, unable to say more. He tries to meet my eyes, but I look away. It feels like I'm going to faint. I hear them talking, my brothers, Ms. West, the man, but it's like my brain doesn't register the words. They have no meaning.

I need to sit down.

I feel my knees buckle, and then I'm on the floor, and Soda sits on his heels, holding my face with his hands.

"It will be all right. It will be all right," he repeats, over and over. I take his hands and rip them away from me.

"No, it won't," I say, but the voice doesn't sound like mine.

"Do we need to call the police?" someone, it must be the man, says. "The boy is coming with us, now."

"Jesus!" Soda throws at him. "Give us some fuckin' time, will ya?"

"This is obviously not a good home environment," the man says to Ms. West, but she just gives him a weak smile in return.

"Soda, take Pony to your room and help him pack," Darry says. It doesn't sound like his voice either. Why is he not stopping this? Tells them to go? He can throw them out, lock the door, keep me safe. Keep me home.

Soda tugs at my arm, and somehow I manage to stand, and we walk down the hallway and into our room, clinging to each other. Or maybe it's just me, clinging to him. I look at the window. It's dark outside. I wonder what would happen if I just climbed out and ran. Would they find me?

"Pony, you are comin' back," Soda says, pushing me gentle to sit down on the bed. "You hear me? You are comin' back to us."

What is he talking about? I shake my head. "I ain't goin' nowhere."

Soda sinks down to sit on his knees in front of me, and I lean forward, pressing my forehead against his.

"Ponyboy, listen. You heard what they said."

"I didn't hear it." If I didn't, it might not be true.

"They have a paper sayin' you have to go with them. Some judge took the custody from Darry." Soda sounds toneless. He never sounds like this. "It's just temporary."

"I ain't goin'!"

"If you don't, they'll just have the police come and get you. Please, Pony. Trust me on this. It's better if you just go with them, and we work somethin' out tomorrow, okay? We'll get a lawyer and stuff, until the court date. Darry will get the custody back. I'm sure you'll come home in a week. You can manage a week, right? It will be hard, but we can do it. Okay, Ponyboy?"

He tries to convince himself. But I nod. Okay. Okay, I can do it. I was in Windrixville for five days, I can be in a boys home for seven. It will be all right, as Soda says.

"Hey, Pone, don't cry!"

"I can't help it." I throw my arms around him, and I soak his shirt as I'm bawling against his shoulder. He's wrong. I can't do this and it won't be okay and I don't want to go.

Suddenly I feel another hand on the back of my neck, and I look up. Darry has sat himself down next to us on the floor.

"I'm sorry," he says hoarsely. "There's nothin' I can do. I tried."

"What about Soda?" I sniff. "Are they takin' him too?" I think I can go if Soda can come with me. But their silence tells me no.

Darry stands up and leaves the room, but he's back a minute later with a suitcase. Without a word he places it open on my bed, and then he walks to my closet and starts to pick out jeans and shirts and t-shirts.

"Darry, stop it!" I say. "Stop it!"

"They gave us ten minutes, Ponyboy." He drops the stack in the suitcase, then rubs his eyes with both hands. I hear him curse. "Ten fuckin' minutes."

I don't know what to say. The air has left me anyway, and somewhere I hear Soda telling me to breathe. But I do breathe.

"Ponyboy, listen to me," Darry says, sinking down to my level again. "None of this is your fault. It's mine. But I want you to promise to do as they say, and just... trust us. Don't give them anything to think they're right about this and I'll get you back."

"And if not... if not, then we come and kidnap you, got it?" Soda's eyes are wet. "But there's no if's. Okay, Pone?"

Somehow I manage to nod.

xXx

"I thought we would have to call the police," the man mutters as we step inside the living room fifteen minutes later. Darry carries Dad's old suitcase, with my clothes and books for a week. There is a court date, Soda didn't make that up, and I still have my hopes.

"Where are you takin' him?" Soda says harshly, and then to me, much softer, "We come visit you tomorrow."

But the man shakes his head as he rises from the couch. "You are not allowed to meet or hear each other until court next week."

"You're fuckin' kiddin' me!"

I have never seen Soda so mad. But the man and his red, angry face scares me. I don't know who he is, if he's important to have on our side, and if he is, we're not doing great. The way he looks at us is almost with disgust.

I feel someone step up to me and touch my arm. It's Ms. West. I'm glad she's here at least. She has always been nice to us even if the checkup's have been uncomfortable.

"I'm afraid we have to go," she says. "Darrel, I can call you tomorrow and tell you how it goes."

"Thanks." His voice is hoarse, and the man snorts.

Someone gives me my jacket, and I manage to get it on. The air is cold outside as Ms. West open up the front door, and only her gentle push on my back makes me go forward.

Darry and Soda follow me out to the car. I feel them on each side of me, even if I feel numb. I wish I had climbed out of my window and run, instead of just standing here, watching my suitcase being placed in the trunk, feeling my brothers arms around me as we hug. I don't want to let go.

"Just for a week," Darry assures me. "Next week you'll be home."

"Love you, Pony," Soda whispers.

I can't speak. I can't say anything back.

A big hand on my shoulder forces me to release my arms, and then it guides me into the backseat of the car. The man closes the door, and I place my palm against the window. Soda quickly lies his hand over mine on the other side, leaning down and mouthing something.

I know I shouldn't. Greasers don't, and not in front of strangers, but as the man starts the car and drive away, and my brothers get smaller and smaller on the street, I cry.

* * *

_**A/N please read** - This story is a rewrite of my old story Waiting For Sunrise. I wrote that one and a half year ago, and I feel I have improved some since then. I like the plot, but the old story is too short, it's rushed and have too many grammar errors. But I don't want to take it down either, since it's my very first story written in English, and my first Outsider fanfic ever. It's my "firstborn".  
_

_If you have read that story, you will probably recognize similarities in this one - but this will be much longer, more detailed, and there will be a lot of changes too. So I hope you can enjoy anyway. And I hope this is worth continuing. Please tell me what you think.  
_

_Beta-read by xXxAngel-With-A-ShoutgunxXx_

_Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders and I never will._


	2. Boys Home

**On a Long Road**

**2. Boys Home**

I wipe my eyes with my sleeve when I notice how the man behind the steering wheel is catching glimpses of me through the rear view mirror. I blink hard and look down at my lap, clenching my hands. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry; I'm tougher than that. But when I take a shaky breath, I can still feel the lump in my throat. It seems like I can't swallow it down.

In the passenger seat, Ms. West turns slightly in her seat.

"Are you all right, Ponyboy?"

I don't trust my voice, so I don't answer. I pretend I don't hear her, and luckily, she doesn't repeat herself. She just throws a glance at the man, then looks back at me for a while, before she turns forward again.

I turn my gaze to the window, trying to figure out where we're going, how far away they will take me, but I don't recognize the view. I don't think I have been in this part of town before. It seems nicer than my own neighborhood; there's no trash on the street, no cracked windows on the buildings, and the cars parked here and there are not only rusty, old jalopys. But that doesn't matter, I don't care about nice.

In bad moments I have imagined this - being taken away from Darry, I mean - but I never thought it would really happen. I know the threat has hung over us since our parents' accident, but it has never been like this before. Never because of these reasons. In the beginning, they just cared about the money situation, if Darry could afford taking care of us, and being able to be there if we needed something. I remember that was almost the only thing Ms. West asked him about when she came to check on us the day after the funeral. His answers made her satisfied, and me and Soda had to just stay out of trouble, and we would be fine.

And then everything happened, with Bob Sheldon and Johnny and Dally, barely two months ago. The Social services never said anything to us, but it was obvious they had thoughts about pulling me away from home then. It even said so in the newspaper, that was where I found out about it. I was so scared that they would do it. But they never did - they just left us alone after the hearing.

And now they think Darry is some kind of abuser, and it's my fault. He said it was his, but it's not. I wrote the words. But I don't understand - I know I wrote about the good things too, that everything is all right between us now, and I know that Mr. Syme had Darry in his class when he went to High school. Why did he do this to us?

I finger on the door handle, wondering if I can jump out in the speed, but then I look up and see how the man pulls the car into a parking lot and cuts off the engine.

I don't want to move. Through the windscreen I can see a high metal fence, and behind it some brick buildings, the largest three stores high.

Ms. West looks at her wrist watch. "Just in time for supper," she says, too happily.

We climb out of the car. The man takes out my suitcase, but he doesn't hand it to me, instead he just places his other hand on my shoulder again. His grip is hard, telling me to not even try to run. It's like he can read my thoughts.

We cross the pavement to the gate, and while Ms. West opens it by pressing in a code, the man mutters beside me. "We have some trouble with runaways."

I remember what Curly Shepard has told me about the reformatory, with its locked doors and guards, but I'm not a criminal. I have done nothing wrong.

"It's for safety for the boys," Ms. West says flatly, and pushes the gate open. "It keeps people out, too."

We walk up the gravel to the front doors. It's light inside, and kind of nice, I guess. There are big pottery plants on the floor, and a counter with a woman sitting behind it. She's in her forties, with blond, curly hair and a happy face.

"Good evening, Ms. West, Mr. Johnson," she says. Then to me, "Welcome to Tulsa's home for boys. I am Mrs. Williams."

I stare down at the carpet. The hand around my shoulder tightens, he still has not let go of me, but I can't talk. Then I will break down, and I refuse to break down here.

"This is Ponyboy Curtis," Ms. West explains when she realizes I won't say anything. "He's in emergency care, judge Arnold Stone took him out from his home just two hours ago."

Mrs. Williams looks at me with pity, and I feel my cheeks burn. I know what they all are thinking, but they are wrong. I'm not some abused, neglected kid.

"Does he need a medical examination?"

I want to tell them I don't; I'm not hurt, but Ms. West nods and agrees, and she puts up her portfolio on the desk and opens it. A bunch of paper, with my name written in a white square on the front page, switch hands.

I guess I'm delivered properly when Ms. West suddenly says goodbye and tells me she will be here tomorrow again, and then she and Mr. Johnson walk out through the doors. I stand awkwardly on the floor, with my suitcase next to my feet and my jacket in my hands. My mind still tells me to run, to go home, but I know what my brothers said. It's just for a week, and I will behave. I won't give them anything to be wanting to keep me here.

"Follow me, please." Mrs. Williams has my folder in her hands, and I leave my things and do as she says. We walk down a hallway with closed doors on both sides. "Dr. Moore will check you first, and then you will see our supervisor, Mr. Marshal." She stops outside a door and opens it. I glance inside. It looks like a doctor's examine room, and Mrs. William's smiles reassuringly.

"You can wait in here and the doctor will be there in a minute."

She leaves me and I sit down on the edge of a chair. Warily I look around the room - at the examine table, at the poster on the wall that is showing the insides of the body, muscles and the skeleton. It's nasty. Another poster holds the words _Child abuse?_, a picture of a kid who's crying and underneath it, phone numbers to call to prevent it. I shudder.

It's so quiet. There's a phone in the corner, and I'm thinking of using it to calling Darry and Soda, but I'm afraid that will get me into trouble. Instead I rub my palms on my jeans and wait, wishing I had a cigarette, but I left my jacket with my suitcase.

It feels like at least half an hour passes before Dr. Moore shows up with a nurse in tow. I stand up.

"Hello, Ponyboy." He shakes my hand with a smile, then points at the table. "Can you please take a seat?"

I slowly go there and climb up. I hate having to do this. The nurse doesn't say a word as she rolls up my sleeve and takes my blood pressure, and then picks out a syringe in a plastic bag from a drawer. I jerk away, but she catches my arm.

"I just need a little blood."

I look away with a grimace as I feel the needle prick my skin.

When she's done, she leaves the room, and Dr. Moore tells me to undress. I jump down to the floor again, turn my back against him and drag my shirt over my head, then unbuttoning my jeans. It's uncomfortable standing in just my boxers in front of him, as he lifts my arms and pokes at every inch of my skin. I know he's probably looking for signs of abuse; wounds or scars, but I know he won't find any.

"You have a bruise here. You know how you got it?"

I look down on my arm. Right over my elbow the skin is blue and purple.

"It's just a bruise." I have finally found my voice again, but I hate that I sound like a scared little kid.

"It's not just a bruise if someone caused it." Dr. Moore's eyes find mine. "Do you want to tell me something?"

"What?" I say quietly, staring at him. I think I know what he's trying to imply.

"You can trust me."

This is ridiculous and I manage to roll my eyes.

"I'm just clumsy sometimes," I say. "I get bruises, everyone does."

"Are you... _clumsy_... often?"

I wonder if he think's I'm stupid, because I'm sure thinking that about him.

"No one hits me," I retort, harshly this time. I have to defend Darry.

Dr. Moore blinks. He looks at me as though he doesn't believe me, and I really want to get out of here. I want Sodapop to come. I cross my arms in front of me, dipping my head. Suddenly I feel very naked under his stare.

"Okay," Dr. Moore says finally, leaving the subject. But he's not finished yet. I have to stand on the scale, and then he checks my height, before I'm allowed to get dressed again, and I do it quickly while he writes something down, sitting by the small desk.

"You are a bit underweight," he says as I stick my feet into my shoes. "You have to come back in a week, so I can do another checkup, okay?"

I'm close to telling him I won't be here in a week, but I don't.

xXx

Mrs. Williams comes back.

"Did it went well?" She smiles at me again. Dr. Moore nods and hands her the paper, and she takes it. I follow her out in the hallway again. I feel tired. I shouldn't be here. I'm sure there are a lot of other kids that need to be rescued, but I'm not one of them. I don't belong here.

"I'm not abused," I suddenly hear myself say out loud. "I should go home."

She gets that pitying look on her face again. "You're safe here, Ponyboy," she says, obviously trying to comfort me.

"I'm safe at home!"

"Well, Mr. Marshal wants to see you now, and then we will have to get you something to eat. Supper-time is almost finished in the cafeteria I'm afraid."

No one listens to me. We're going back through the hallway again, and then through another door, to another man, sitting behind his big desk. He's almost completely bald, but he doesn't look old. I notice he has the folder with my name on it in front of him.

"From Dr. Moore," Mrs. Williams says and gives him the paper. I wonder what it says.

"Thank you. Please sit down... Ponyboy? Or is it Michael?"

"It's Ponyboy," I mumble and take a seat in the chair across from him. Mrs. Williams leaves again, and I throw a glance at the door as she closes it.

Mr. Marshal reads the paper he got from her, then put it in the folder and places his hands over it.

"So here is the situation," he says. "Children's Welfare made the decision that you needed to be removed from your home in an instant, due to new information about your safety. You are in the custody of the state for the moment, but there will be a hearing about it next week. What do you feel about this?"

I feel my hope rise slightly. "I want to go home," I hurry to say. "This is a mistake."

"You want to live at home?"

"Yeah."

His eyes are dull. "But your parents are dead," he says, like that would change my mind.

I take a breath. It's still hard to talk about my parents. "Yeah," I mumble, leaning back. "I live with my brothers. My oldest brother Darry is my guardian."

"_Was_, I believe."

I look down at my lap. "Will he get the custody back?" I ask, afraid of the answer. But Darry promised me. He said I would come home.

"It depends. If the state can make sure you're absolutely safe with him, then yes. But if there are any ambiguities, I doubt it. We only want what's best for you, and I hope you realize that. Since you are an orphan, maybe a decent foster home is what you need."

I feel the lump in my throat coming back.

"We could place you in a temporary foster home until the hearing, but unfortunately we don't have any proper family for you right now, and all our emergency care families are filled, so you will probably be staying here. But we do our best to make this place like a home for all the boys that we can't place in actual families. We receive boys in the age from twelve up to seventeen, who's home lives fail in - "

I tune him out. Suddenly it feels like days have passed since I last saw my brothers, but it's just about two hours ago. Two hours feel so long - how am I supposed to manage a week? I won't do it. I swallow and swallow. He's talking about foster homes, but I can't live in another family. Sweat starts to run down my back, and I clench my hands and open them.

It feels like I want to throw up.

"Bathroom?" I manage to choke out, interrupting Mr. Marshal in the middle of his speech.

He stops talking, raising his eyebrows. "Yes, of course. Go out in the hallway, and it's the third door on the right."

I flee. I find the door and stumble inside and lock it, and then I sink down to the floor and put the heels of my hands into my eyes, push them in so hard it hurts. This is not happening. This is one of my nightmares, it must be. And when I wake up Soda will be there, and we can laugh about this stupid dream together.

But I know it is real, and Soda is not here, and I groan when I think of sleeping in another bed. How am I supposed to be able to do that without waking up screaming? So much has happened today, I just know I won't be able to sleep tonight.

Even though part of me wishes for it, I can't hide in the bathroom forever. So about ten minutes later, I stand up on shaky legs, and I take a leak and wash my hands and my face. I'm ready to face this again, I have to tell myself. It won't get better sitting here feeling sorry for myself. I just have to persuade everyone in this place that I'm much better living with Darry. I can do that. I have to believe that I can.

xXx

Mrs. Williams takes me to the empty cafeteria, and apologizes that I have to eat by myself. But I don't mind. I think I prefer it.

The place kind of reminds me of the cafeteria in school - the tables with the plastic chairs, and the counter where you get your food. But my plate is already on the table for me, along with a glass of milk. I sit down and lift my fork, knowing I won't get a bite down. I think of Darry's baked chicken, of Soda's colorful food. I wonder what they will eat tonight, if they can eat. We didn't have the time for dinner before Ms. West showed up. I put the fork back down and take a sip of my milk, but it doesn't taste of anything either. I put my elbows on the table and lean my head in my hands.

"Ponyboy?"

I look up, blinking.

"You haven't eaten anything?" Mrs. Williams stares down at my untouched food.

"I ain't hungry," I mumble.

She looks at me in disapproval. "Well, I can't give you anything else later." Then her face softens again, like she understands. "I can show you to your room instead."

My suitcase stands beside the door, and I pick it up. As we walk up the stairs to the second floor, Mrs. Williams keeps chattering, and I try to listen, but it's hard.

"... ten o'clock. There are of course no smoking inside, and you have to leave your suitcase with one of the staff members so they can check it for forbidden items. But I'm sure Mr. Marshal has already told you this."

Maybe he did. I don't know.

We go into a room, and I have to leave my suitcase and jacket with a fat woman in her fifties.

"I'm so sorry for this," Mrs. Williams says. "But it happens; some boys bring drugs or weapons when they come here."

I feel how I pale a bit, knowing about the switch blade in my pocket. Then I remember what she said about smoking. My hands are already a bit jittery from the lack of nicotine, and I turn my head at the direction of the other woman, worried. Her face is concentrated as she flips through my clothes. She only look up when she finds the pack of Kool's and the lighter in my jacket, a brief glance at me as she puts them to the side.

When she's done, she comes over to me.

"Show me your jeans pockets."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Feeling awkward I shove down my hands to turn the pockets inside out. I realize it's probably no use to even try to hide it, so I pick up the blade immediately, handing it over. The woman snorts at me, and then we can go.

Mrs. Williams doesn't say anything about me bringing weapons, just takes me further down the hall. We walk through a big room with couches and tables. There are bookcases with books and games along one of the walls, and a ping-pong table stands in a corner. A TV is placed against another wall. It's turned off, but a radio next to it plays an Elvis song. The room is filled with boys, and most of them turn their heads and look at me as we pass. My cheeks burn again.

We walk around a corner, and then Mrs. Williams suddenly stops outside a door. "Here it is."

Nervously I follow her inside. The room has two bunk beds and two closets. That's all. I almost expect grids on the window, but there aren't any - just the dark sky outside the glass.

"It can seem a little sparse," Mrs. Williams apologizes. "But it's a temporary room and you will only spend your time sleeping in here."

The bed in the bottom to the right is mine. I go sit down on it, since it feels like my legs won't bear me so much longer. I feel like crying again, but I really can't do that. Not in here.

"The bathroom is down the hallway. Maybe you should unpack?"

I think it's the last thing I want to do. I'm not staying.

"Okay."

A few minutes later she's gone again, and I'm alone. What am I supposed to do now? I stare at my shoes.

I don't know how long time that pass and I just sit here, but suddenly the door opens and my head snaps up. Three boys walk in, but only the first nods at me, before plopping down on his own bed, across from mine. The other two climb up to the top bed above him, and start to deal out cards.

"Who are you?" Blue eyes are staring at me, a bit hostile.

"Ponyboy Curtis," I mumble, cursing myself. I know I need to toughen up. The boy talking to me is dressed like a middle class kid, but one of the others has his hair greased back, like me. Now he leans over the rail of the top bed, squinting his eyes.

"What did you say?"

"Ponyboy Curtis," I say a little louder.

"You're kiddin' me," the first boy says. "Ponyboy? Really? Got many horses with you?" He laughs at his own joke. I know I probably should come up with a smart retort, but I can never do that. I'm not used to talking that much. I decide to just keep quiet, maybe I can avoid some trouble if I do.

"You're Sodapop's brother then?"

Surprised, I look up at the greaser. "You know Soda?"

"Nah, not really. I know who he is, shared a couple o' classes in High school freshman year. But I haven't been around since my old man got to jail." He picks up the cards lying in front of him, and he and the chubby boy start a game I don't recognize. I look at the boy in the bottom bed again, but his stare makes me uncomfortable. I look away.

God, I need to smoke. Real bad. It crawls in my skin. I pick up my suitcase and place it on the bed. I know it's pointless, they have searched through it, and it's just clothes and books in it, but I hope to find a cigarette anyway, just one, please just one...

There isn't any. I sigh.

The room is silent, except from the soft sound of flipping cards and low curses. "Hey, don't cheat," the chubby boy suddenly says.

I come to think of Soda and Steve, and all the places they try to hide the aces as they play. I want to go home so badly. I know I can't, but I don't have to stay here, in this room, and be reminded. I rise and reach for the door. I almost run to the bathroom, but apparently I walk in the wrong direction, because I end up in the room with the couches. There are still some boys there, and this time the TV is on, showing some comedy show.

I ignore everyone and take the stairs. Mrs. Williams is not behind the counter this time, and I rush to the front doors, just to find them locked. Half heartedly I tug at them, already knowing there's no use. They won't let me out.

"You're not supposed to do that."

* * *

_Thank you so, so much for the respond on the first chapter. It really means a lot! I hope you like this chapter too. _

_And I want to say... I have tried to do a lot of research, but either it's hard to find information or I don't know where to look. So this story might not always follow the reality. I mix the info I find with my own imagination, and I hope that's okay with you._

___Beta-read by xXxAngel-With-A-ShoutgunxXx_


	3. Locked Doors

**On a Long Road**

**3. Locked Doors**

Startled by the voice, I turn around, expecting to be in trouble. But the boy standing just a few feet away is too young to be working here. He looks to be around my age, with long blond hair hanging in his eyes.

"The door," the boy says.

"Yeah," I say, nervously. " I wasn't..."

"I don't care. But there are better ways."

"What?"

"To run away."

"I wasn't goin' to."

He gives me a loopy grin. I'm just about to say that he's wrong, when a man suddenly steps out from the door to the left, next to the cafeteria entrance, and tapping the boy on his shoulder. "Come on, Ewan, go to your room." Then his eyes fall on me and I tense. "You too. You shouldn't be down here this time of day."

I bite my lip and nod quickly.

"I hate this fuckin' place," Ewan says as we start to walk up the stairs, not caring that the man is still standing close enough to hear. On the second floor, he throws himself down into one of the couches, making another boy already sitting there flip him off. Ewan curses at him. He has a mouth that is worse than Dally's was.

xXx

"Make him shut up!" someone groans loudly in the dark. There is a scream, and a sharp pain on my cheek. It comes again, and again, until my hand flies out to push whatever it is away. It doesn't stop, and I crawl around to hide my face in the pillow. The screams muffle, and I wake up enough to feel the soreness in my throat. That's when I realize it is me who is screaming.

I cough and stop. As always, I have no memories of the dream at all, and I push myself up on my elbows, taking in well needed air.

"What the hell was that?" It's the hostile boy, Albert. I turn my head, seeing him as a dark shadow standing next to my bed.

"S-sorry," I manage to choke out. My face is wet. Maybe it's sweat and not tears, but I doubt it. I just hope the room is too dark for the others to tell. Over my head the bed creaks as someone moves in it, and I lay down again, dragging my blankets up to my chin. I don't know what time it is, but I know I won't dare falling back asleep again. It's not the nightmares as much as the embarrassment - I can hear the greaser who knew Soda, Lewis, say something to Albert as he walks back to his own bed. Something about me I guess, since they both snicker.

My first night at the boys home turns out to be just as I was afraid it would. Blinking in the dark I turn to the wall, missing Soda so bad it hurts.

xXx

At breakfast, I take a seat for myself at the edge of a table. Warily I look around in the room while I pick in my porridge with the spoon. A quick count tells me there's about twenty boys living here, most of them with hard eyes and bad language. I have already seen a fist fight in the room with the couches - on my way down here, one boy accidentally pushed another, and the one he pushed hit him straight in his eye. I hope they all will leave me alone. I know I can fight, but without the gang backing me up, I think I'm too small to really have a chance to win against anyone.

My roommates ignored me all morning. Thankfully no one said anything about my nightmare, and I was already been in the bathroom and had gotten dressed when they woke up. Now I can see them sitting in different places around the cafeteria, talking and laughing and yawning, like everybody else.

I was expecting to be sitting all alone, so I jump slightly as someone drops their tray hard down in the table in front of me. But I relax when I see it's the boy from yesterday.

"What the fuck is this?" he says and makes a grimace at his bowl as he sits down. "_Porridge_. Why can't they give us any decent food?"

I start to think of hard-boiled eggs and crispy bacon, of chocolate milk and chocolate cake, of piles of green pancakes...

"You're the boy with the funny name." Ewan eyes me, then picks up his glass and sweeps his milk in one long drag.

"Ponyboy," I say quietly. I can't really eat today either, but I think it's mostly because of my dizziness. I need a smoke so badly. My whole body is craving for a cigarette.

"I'm Ewan."

He doesn't say anything more during breakfast, just eats all his food as fast as he can and then goes and gets some more. I manage to at least eat my ham sandwich. When I take the last bite, the cafeteria is almost empty, but Ewan is still sitting in front of me. My hands shake as I put them down in my lap, and I see that he has noticed. I blush.

"What's with you?" Ewan asks. "You nervous or somethin'?"

That too, but I won't tell him. "No. I ... um, I need a smoke."

"Yeah? Come on, then."

He stands up and leaves his tray on the table, but I take mine to the dishes, and then I follow him up to the second floor, but he doesn't stop there. He glances both ways down the hall and then fiddles with a door. With a big grin he opens it.

"Are we allowed to go up here?" I ask him as we take the first steps up the stairwell hidden behind it. I notice a change in the way he walks - like he knows he's doing something wrong. He doesn't answer, just gestures at me to come.

The top floor seems empty of people. There are corridors with doors, which some are closed and locked, and others stand slightly ajar. I peek into one as we walk past it, but there are just shelves with boxes inside.

"They keep all sorts of things up here," Ewan says and drags me along. The room he takes me to is an old restroom, but it seems like it hasn't been used for a while. The stalls are closed, the sinks more yellow than white. The room smells like an ashtray, so I'm not that surprised when Ewan picks up a cigarette pack and a lighter from a trashcan. We sit down on the cold floor tiles, leaning against the wall. Ewan hands me the pack, and I take out a stick as he rises to open up the small window over our heads.

"You know why they won't allow us to smoke?" he says as he takes the pack from my hand and picks out a cigarette for himself. He lights it, then waves with the lighter in front of my face. "Because of this. One day, I ain't sure when it was but it was before I come here, there was this boy who took all his clothes and his pillow and comforter, and then he set it all on fire in his room. The whole house could've burned down. So now they are all jittery when it comes to us having lighters inside."

"Oh."

"But we smoke all the time anyway, so don't worry about it."

"They took my cigarettes," I say, eyeing his hand and the small object in it.

"Ask to have them back when we're outside. They're yours, right? They can't tell us not to steal if they do it."

"Outside?"

"Yeah." He gives me the lighter, and _finally_! I close my eyes and lean my head backwards, sucking in eagerly.

My thoughts drift to Darry and Soda. I guess they are at work now. Or maybe they have taken the day off, trying to figure out how to get me home again. Soda talked about getting a lawyer, but I'm not stupid. I know those cost money, and we don't have any. I have to try to think I will get home though, or I would get crazy. I can't even imagine staying in this place forever.

"So how many homes have you been in?" Ewan asks me, while drumming with his fingers against his leg. He ashes the cigarette on the floor, and I do the same.

"Homes?"

"Homes," he repeats. "Yeah, fuckin' _homes_."

"Um, I live with my brothers," I say. "I'm goin' home next week."

"You do? They just told me I have to stay here until I'm eighteen and that's more than three years."

I take another drag and blow out slowly. "I think they want to place me in a foster home," I say, regretting it at once. Speaking it out loud suddenly makes it more true, and I shift uncomfortably. I suck on the cigarette, wishing for it to last longer, but it's too soon just a butt. I throw it away before I burn my fingers.

xXx

I find out that the boys living here go to school here too. But I'm not going there today; instead I sit on a couch in a small room with Ms. West.

"We're working hard to find you a nice family," she says and smiles at me. "This was the only place that could take you in such short notice, but I can assure you it's only temporary."

I look away. I don't want a foster home! I put my hands between my knees and wish my brothers were here. Darry would have probably known what to say, he usually does. I'm not sure I can handle this by myself.

"Ponyboy?"

I look at her. "I want to go home to my brothers," I mumble.

I can see how she hesitates before answering, and I get a knot in my stomach.

"I am aware of what this looks like to you. But I promise you that this is what's best for you. After all that has happened to you during the year, you need parents, Ponyboy. Stable adults around you. I'm sure it was nice to live with your brother, but it's not enough. A kid your age needs more than that, more than another young boy can handle."

"He didn't abuse me."

"I'm not saying that he did. But this doesn't have so much to do with Darrel. As I said, this is about your needs. And you need to-"

"But I know my needs. I need to stay with Darry and Soda!"

I can tell she's starting to get annoyed at me. She straightens up a bit more, and crosses her leg over the other.

"You are a minor. You can't possible tell what your needs are."

"But you didn't take Soda. He's a minor too! Why can't I stay at home when he can?" It's not that I want Soda in trouble. Maybe I shouldn't bring him up at all, but I can't help but be selfish. I don't want to be alone in this.

"Sodapop is seventeen with a full-time job. You shouldn't even be in High school yet. There is a big difference in your situations."

"But-"

"This is my job, Ponyboy," she interrupts me. "I help children every day, and most of them are thankful for it. To get a new chance in life."

She says something else, but I don't listen. It just hits me then - hits me hard - that it doesn't matter what we do. If we can prove that Darry doesn't abuse me, that he doesn't neglect me, that we have enough money to buy food and pay our bills ... it won't matter, because we can't bring our parents back. No matter what we do, I will be an orphan, and that is their reason for taking me. I feel how my chin starts to tremble and I bit down hard. I'm not going to cry. I'm not.

xXx

It's cold outside, but it's the only place where we're allowed to smoke, and it feels better to not break the rules. The school just ended for the others, and Ewan and I stand behind the main building, watching some of the guys playing football. I guess it could be called football, but it looks like they mostly just play around and try to kick or hit each other as hard as they can. Darry would just roll his eyes if he saw it.

Someone walks past me and smacks their shoulder into mine, making me almost drop my cigarette. I have to take a step back to regain my balance.

"Can't you stand on your legs, horseboy?" Albert sneers, stepping up close. I know I should probably punch him right away and be done with it. I just came yesterday, but I can already tell how this place works.

"Fuck you, Albert," Ewan speaks up before I have the time to do anything. "We all know nobody wants you. Not even mommy or daddy, huh?"

All the colors leave my roommate's face, and he moves forward and grabs Ewan by his collar. I'm just about to grab his arm as someone else pushes me to the side with the purpose to split the two of them up.

"Hey, hey, hey ... boys! Knock it off! Albert, let go. Now!" the man demands. Albert obeys. He curses loudly, and another of the staff comes to lead him away. The man speaks to Ewan for a moment, too low for me to hear. Ewan nods, but he looks annoyed.

"No fighting, boys," the man says finally, and looks at me before walking away to watch the game a bit closer. It only takes a minute, and then he has to break up another fight. This place is crazy.

"C'mon, Ponyboy," Ewan says, and we walk around to the front yard instead and up to the gates. Ewan peeks through the high fence out into the parking lot while I kick the fallen leaves a bit. It's about a month before christmas, but I try to avoid thinking about it. I have to be home for christmas, right? But the knot in my stomach is still there, telling me things I don't want to listen to.

"This is like a fuckin' prison," Ewan sighs.

I think he's right.

"Why are we locked in?" I take one last drag of the cigarette and throw it away. I didn't get my cigarettes back, but it's because I didn't dare ask for them. Ewan is generous, though.

"You don't know a thing, do you?" he mocks me gently. "They place everyone they don't know what else to do with here. You think any of those guys would fit in a foster family? Some of them come straight from juvie, and they will probably go back there soon too. Just wait."

I look out over the yard, sighing.

"Anyway, I ain't like them," Ewan continues. "They just place me here in hope I won't run away again."

I turn my head to look at him. "You run away a lot?"

"All the fuckin' time." He starts to climb up the metal fence, and I watch him a bit worried. He can't run away now can he, when everyone is out?

"Ewan! Get down from there!" someone shouts, and Ewan looks down at me and grins, before letting himself drop to the ground.

xXx

I avoid my room as much as I can, hanging around with Ewan instead, but then it's bedtime and I can't do it anymore. I feel uncertain of what Albert might do. He obviously has some problem with me, or people in general, even if he treats Lewis and the other boy, Brent, okay. I'm kind of used to people mocking me or wanting to jump me just because of who I am, but that is in places where I can handle it, like in school with the Socs. Now it's different, when I'm supposed to sleep in the same room. I feel like a little kid without his teddy bear because Soda's not here. I need him to sleep, now more than ever. The bed is too empty.

But Albert seems to have decided to just ignore me, and I crawl under my blankets, blinking in the dark when the light turns out. I breathe into my pillow, hoping I won't dream again. But I'm not that lucky. Sometime during the night I fall asleep, just to wake up by someone grabbing the t-shirt I'm sleeping in in the front and hauling me up to sit. I'm dizzy and screaming, the nightmare still haunting me. I try to push him away.

The light goes on. Lewis stands by the switch next to the door, glaring at me, while Albert is shaking me. I get quiet in an instant.

"What the hell is your problem?" Albert shouts right in my face. "Fuckin' christ, I'm gonna smack you so hard that you-"

The door opens up. Two of the staff members rush in, and one of them grabs Albert by his neck while the other one starts to ask Lewis what happened, who did what to who. I try to make myself as small as possible, wondering what will happen when they leave again, but then I hear my name being called.

"Ponyboy? Come on."

I climb out of bed, and follow the staff out into the hallway, confused. I don't ask them anything, though, because parts of me think that maybe Darry and Soda are here to get me. The state found out that this is just a mistake, and-

I'm back in Dr. Moore's examination room. The night nurse places me in a chair, sitting in her own in front of me with a concerned expression.

"What happened, Ponyboy?" Her voice is gentle.

"I just... it's just nightmares."

"Do you use to have them?"

I nod silently.

"When did they start?"

"When... uh, when my parents died."

She pats my knee. "Okay. I will check your temperature, and then give you someting that will help you sleep."

She goes and gets a thermometer and sticks it under my tongue, and when she's done, she hands me a little pill and a glass of water. I don't want to take it, but I do it anyway. I used to take aspirins all the time before, but they never helped. This one might.

The nurse shows me to a small room with four beds in a row. One is occupied I think, at least the curtains are drawn around it to hide it. I climb into the bed next to the wall, with my eyelids already heavy.

The rest of the night is a mix of sleep, wakefulness, dreams and faces. Sometimes I wake up, thinking Soda is sitting next to my bed, looking down at me with a smile. I even hear him talking, but I know it's just a dream. I hear Darry telling me to get up, it's time for school, and I sit up, but the room is different. It's not mine. It's still very dark. I lie down, bury my face in the pillow again and cry silently. Right now I don't care if I'm being too silly, too weak. I want to go home.

Sometimes close to the morning, my head starts to throb, and when the nurse - a new one this time - lightly taps my shoulder, it feels like I will never manage to leave the bed. But I have to. Mrs. Williams comes to get me and takes me to my room so that I can dress, and then down to breakfast. This time it's cereal with milk, orange juice and cheese sandwiches. Still no chocolate cake.

I take my seat across from Ewan, trying to ignore the looks I get from the others in the cafeteria. Ewan slowly chews on his food while leaning backwards, studying me.

"I heard they had to strap you down on a bed and drug you," he suddenly says.

"No, they didn't," I say, blushing a bit. "I... um, I just had a nightmare."

I start to eat, to not having to talk. I don't want to talk about it. I'm waiting for him to start to mock me about it, but he doesn't. Instead he leans forward.

"I used to have them too."

I swallow. "You did?"

"Yeah," he says lightly, but I can't tell if he's lying or not. Maybe he is, to make me feel better. So I just shrug, and continue stuffing food in my mouth, avoiding his eyes.

xXx

We walk over the yard to a smaller building who holds the school, the gym and the library. Ewan and I are both freshmans, and belong to the same classroom along with four other boys. Our teacher, Ms. Flanagan, just gives me a tired look when we step inside.

"Why can't I go to my old school?" I whisper to Ewan as we sit down at a table. I wish I could, so I could see Two-Bit and Steve between my classes, and drive past the DX on my lunch break to meet up with Soda. But Ewan just shrugs and starts to draw in his notebook. It seems to only hold drawings, and I wonder if he uses to study at all.

Ms. Flanagan walks up to me. "I'm not sure were you are in your work," she says. "Just pick a book from the shelves, please. As far as I know, you won't be staying here anyway." And then she's gone again, to sit with some other boy who's apparently struggling just to read.

There are some textbooks on the shelves, and I pick a History book I recognize from my class and sit down. I just don't know what I am supposed to study. I can read the chapter I know we're working on in my class at Will Rogers, but what about the rest? Absent-mindedly I flip through the pages. Two of the other boys have sat up on a table, playing cards, and I look at Ms. Flanagan, but she doesn't even acknowledge it. I frown. I thought this was a school.

"Hey, Ewan?" I whisper, but he just mumbles an answer and doesn't look up. I nudge his arm.

"What?" He looks at me through his bangs.

"Shouldn't this be a class or somethin'?"

He shrugs again. "Maybe later." He goes back to his drawing, and I sigh.

The day goes slowly. I read the chapter three times, and then I write down some questions for myself to answer. I raise my hand to get some help from Ms. Flanagan, but she doesn't seem to want to put much effort into teaching at all. She just tells me to continue with what I'm doing. But I'm tired of this. The last couple of hours, I just play tick-tack-toe with Ewan, waiting for the second day to end.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading :) I hope you like it. _


	4. Custody Court

**On a Long Road**

**4. Custody Court**

At ten p.m. we must turn out the lights, and this day is no exception even if it's Saturday. But my nights here have been awful so far; I wake up from nightmares, thrashing and screaming, and I'm tired of it. So I wait until Albert and Lewis stop talking, and then I sit up and drag my knees to my chest, folding my arms around my legs. I don't want to sleep tonight.

I can't believe it's the fifth night already. The fifth night away from home. I only have this one, and one more to go before the hearing. I got to know the exact date two days ago, and I have been counting the minutes ever since. I will get out from this place, but I can only hope I will be going home. I don't even want to think that I might not, but it's hard to be optimistic. I just hope my brothers are even if I can't be.

Time passes slowly, and I have to force my eyes to stay open. Maybe I could sneak up to the third floor and have some of Ewan's cigarettes, or go down to the night nurse for another pill, and then I wouldn't have to worry. But I don't move, just yawn and shift, trying to sit even more uncomfortably.

I think of Darry and Soda at home, hating that I'm not allowed to talk to them. I wouldn't tell them so much about this place, though, because I know they would just be upset. I would tell them about Ewan, and maybe about Lewis, but I would definitely not tell them about Albert or the so called school. I only went there Thursday and Friday, and now it's the weekend. Monday is the day I will get out of here, so I'm guess I'm lucky that way. If I would stay here, my grades will never be better. Ms. Flanagan seems to think I will do best on my own, but I don't. I guess she's not very used to boys who actually want to study.

There's a noise from the hallway and my eyes fly open. I wasn't even aware of that I had closed them. I pinch my arm and bite the insides of my cheeks. I'm so tired. I stretch out my legs and drag my hand through my hair, thinking of lying down, just for a minute. It must be way past midnight by now. I blink again, finding it harder and harder to look up. I drag up my legs again and rest my forehead against my knees, just for a second -

- I wake up facing the wall, tangled into my blankets. Shit. I sit up fast before I realize I'm not screaming, and that the others still are asleep in their beds.

xXx

"So you're leavin' tomorrow?"

It's raining outside, and we are in the old restroom. We should be in gym, on Sundays the staff apparently hold exercise classes in there, but Ewan told me he use to ditch them all the time, and no one cares anyway. So instead we sit here, with cards spread out on the floor between us, just ending a game. Ewan puffs on a cigarette, avoiding looking at me.

"Yeah," I say, feeling my stomach flip. I don't want to stay in this place, but at least it's familiar. I don't want to admit it, but I'm scared of tomorrow and what will happen then. I put my cards down and pick up the pack of Kool's. Ewan doesn't say anything as I light up. He has been quiet today, almost as quiet as me, and even though I haven't known him for that long, I know something's wrong.

"You okay?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "Yeah. I'm fine." He jerks his head to the side, so his face gets free from his long bangs. "Are your brothers okay?" he asks me back. He doesn't mean feeling fine, I realize. He wants to know if I like them, if they are good to me. I nod.

"What about your parents?"

We have never spoken about why we are here. Never told, never asked. I stare down at the dirty floor tiles, going back to in my mind to the day of the crash.

"They died," I mumble.

"Oh. Sorry."

"It was a car accident," I continue. I don't know why I want to tell him. Maybe because I somewhere know that I probably will never see him again. "My brother Darry got the custody of me. But then a lot of things happened and I guess ... I guess Ms. West just thinks I'm not doin' good at home anymore. But I am. I really want to go home." I take a shaky breath. I have cried too much already. I manage to swallow it down.

"My mom is crazy. I don't want to go home," Ewan says. The way he clamps his mouth shut after the words shows that he won't say anything more about it. I feel sorry for him. At least I have Darry and Soda, but I don't think he has anyone.

xXx

Biting my nails, I sit on a hard bench on the third floor in the court-house. I stare down the corridor, waiting for my brothers to show up. I can't wait to see them. Ms. West and Mr. Johnson stand on the floor, talking with low voices and going though some papers, but before they know it, I'm up on my feet and running. I hear Mr. Johnson shouting something, but I don't care, I have only one thing on my mind, and then I feel Soda throwing his arms around me.

"Oh, Pony!" He cries and laughs at the same time, holding me so tight that I can hardly breathe.

There are so much I want to say, but I can't get a word out. Darry ruffles my hair and asks if I'm okay, and I nod, still pressed against Soda. I am okay. Now.

"They refused to tell us anything," Darry says, his voice thick. "I called every day. We didn't even know where you were."

"I'm fine."

"I missed you so much," Soda says, glancing up over my shoulder and stiffens. I can hear the footsteps too.

"You got a lawyer?" I hurry to ask, but they don't need to answer. I see it in their faces. My mood sinks, and Mr. Johnson places his hand on my shoulder, again. He nods shortly at my brothers and tells me to come. I shake my head.

"It's all right, Pony," Soda reassures me, and I can see in his eyes that he really believes it.

xXx

The room looks nothing like I thought it would. I don't really know what I was expecting, but it's much smaller, with fewer people. Maybe I thought it would be some kind of a jury sitting in their stand, judging us, but it's only me, Ms. West and Mr. Johnson, Darry and Soda, the judge and two other people in here.

My heart beats so fast it creates a buzz in my head. My eyes are locked with Soda's almost the whole time. He mouths things to me where he sits with Darry across the room, and smiles. I try to smile back.

The judge announce the case; the custody of Ponyboy Curtis, and his eyes linger on me for a moment, before he asks Mr. Johnson to speak.

I hold my breath as Mr. Johnson's voice bellows through the room, hearing him explain why they put me in emergency care and why they want to keep me in the custody of the state. I'm relieved that they don't talk about any abuse, because it's really bad enough with what they think Darry lacks off; experience of parenting, keeping our house safe, helping me in school, good judgement of who we hang out with. Mr. Johnson mentions his opinions of Darry's failure of supporting me after all that happened when Robert Sheldon was killed. He talks about how I ran away from home then, and I think that's unfair - we have already gotten through that during the other hearing. That judge was nice and understanding, but this one just seems harsh. I glance at Darry, seeing how stern he holds his face. I think that if he just gets the chance to talk, he will show them how wrong they are.

"We highly recommend that this boy should remain in the states custody," Mr. Johnson finishes his speech. "We have a family for him, a nice family with good standards. The man works as a banker, and his wife is a stay at home mother. They have three young children and can offer everything a boy in Ponyboy's position needs."

I have to blink away the dizziness that overwhelms me. The judge looks over his glasses at Darry's direction.

"I assume you are here to gain the custody of your brother back?"

Darry sits up straighter. "Yes, Your Honor."

"And why, after the information Mr. Johnson has given me, should I give it to you?" He rests his hand on a bunch of paper on his desk.

I meet Soda's eyes again, as Darry speaks.

"A lot of things have happened during the past year, Your Honor. I understand what it can look like for someone outside just looking at our lives, but I assure you, Ponyboy will have it best at home, with me and Sodapop." He clears his throat. "We have lost our parents and two friends. We need to stay together."

"Is that what you need," the judge says, "or what your brother needs?"

"Ponyboy needs us as much as we need him."

"But you hit him?"

Darry's shoulders stiffen, and his voice gets even more determined. "Only once, and it will never happen again."

"Well, this is not a case about child abuse. What I want to know is what you can offer your brother as his guardian."

"My time and my life. I'll do anything for him." Darry turns his head and looks at me. "I love him."

xXx

The sun hits my face out on the stairs, mocking me. I walk in a daze between Ms. West and Mr. Johnson, and they walk too close for me to do anything. I can't run, I can just go with them, with Soda's words still ringing in my ears.

_"You can't do that! You can't! He's our _brother_ for christ's sake, he's not some damn lost kid without a family. He already has home!"_

Darry had to hold him so he wouldn't do anything stupid, and all the time he yelled at them I just sat there, while my social workers collected their papers and stuffed them back into their portfolios, smiling despite the fact that they just had destroyed our lives. I couldn't do anything then and I can't do anything now, and when I hear my name being called, I slowly lift my head. I see Two-Bit and Steve, standing by our truck on the curb, watching me with concern. I almost believe they're not there. Maybe I'm just imagining them. Steve throws his cigarette down and Two-Bit takes a step closer, unsure.

"Pony?" he says again. "You all right?" He glances at the two social workers at my sides.

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I can't tell them. I can't be the one to tell them that the judge didn't give Darry custody back, that they're taking me to a fucking _foster home_, to a banker and his wife and their kids, like my own family means_ nothing_. I can't say it, but I can read in their faces that they already realize it.

Steve rips his gaze from me, staring up the stairs at the front doors to the court building, his eyes dark, waiting for a devastated Soda. I wonder what he's thinking, what they all are thinking, because I feel empty. It's like I feel nothing.

xXx

"You will like them, Ponyboy," Ms. West says, smiling, and if I wasn't this tired I would have told her to shut up and stop looking so damn happy. I have nothing to lose anymore. "Mr. Smith is a very nice man, and his wife is lovely. It's the first time they ave welcomed a kid into their home, but I'm sure it will be fine."

I wonder vaguely if she tries to convict herself or me as I stare out through the window. We're leaving Tulsa for a smaller town, Owasso. I have never been there and I already hate it. I don't want to go there.

I stare at houses and autumn trees as we pass them, my fingers close to the door handle. Like the first time they went to get me, I think of open up and jumping out, but where would I go? Even if I was able to get home, that's the first place they would go looking for me. So it doesn't matter, does it, running away, if I can't be home anyway.

The car pulls into a smaller road just outside Owasso, and it continues about a mile up to a big house surrounded by trees. A dog comes barking, running to Mr. Johnson and then to me as we step out of the car. It sniffs on my hand and wags its tail before disappearing again. I look up and see people on the porch.

"Mr. and Mrs. Smith, this is Ponyboy Curtis," Ms. West says, pushing me gentle forward with a hand on my back. I guess we're supposed to shake hands, but instead I stuff mine deep into the front pockets of my jeans.

"Hello, son," Mr. Smith says, smiling, but I'm not their son.

"Welcome," his wife chirps. "I hope you're going to like it here."

They show us inside the house, which is a lot bigger than ours. I can see a big living room, a bright kitchen and a dining room. There are doors too, but they are closed. A stair leads up to the second floor.

Mr. Johnson brings in my suitcase, and Mrs. Smith puts her arm around my shoulders a bit hesitantly, taking me a few steps forward.

"This is our daughters, Emma and Ruth. Baby Julie is asleep in her crib," she tells me. "Girls, this is Ponyboy. He's going to stay with us now."

Two pair of blue eyes stare up at me from the couch, but they don't say anything.

"Hi," I say awkwardly. I don't know what you do with kids, I'm not used to them.

"You want coffee?" Mrs. Smith says, letting go of me again. I guess her question is not for me, because I hear both my social workers hum a yes.

We sit in the kitchen, and I get a glass of lemonade, really wishing it had been a Pepsi instead. While the others talk over my head, like I'm not even in the room, I think of my brothers again, and of home. I have really tried to avoid thinking of them on the ride here, because it only makes me feel so sad and lonely and almost panicky. This whole thing is still something I try to think of as temporary - another week, maybe, and then I will be home again. But someplace deep inside me, I know I have four more years to my eighteenth birthday. And I can't stay here that long, I already miss them so much.

"You like ponies?"

The voice is low and careful. I look down - it's the four-year-old. Ruth. She stands on the floor next to the table, playing with the hem of her dress.

"What?"

"You like ponies?" she repeats, then sticking her thumb into her mouth.

"Maybe," I say. She stares at me for a minute more, then suddenly turns around and runs back to her sister.

It's not until Ms. West says that they have to drive back to Tulsa it really hits me that they are going to leave me here. I knew it, I know I did, but it was unreal before. I suddenly understand that I'm going to live here, sleep here, eat their food, go to school here. I'm not going back to my own house and bedroom and Will Roger's High School, I'm not going to eat Soda's crazy food or sleep with his arm around me anymore. Darry won't check my homework and tell me to smoke less and be home on time. I feel like a trapped animal and I need to get out.

But before I have the time to do anything, Mr. Johnson takes me to the side in the hallway.

"I want to make sure you will behave," he says to me. "Running away won't solve anything and will only take you back to the boys home."

I refuse to look at him.

The silence is heavy when they have left, and I'm not used to it. In our home, it has always been loud and vivid, people coming and going, the radio and the TV on full volume. I'm not sure what to do now.

"Do you want to see your room?" Mrs. Smith asks me. The two girls cling to her legs, and she leans down to gently push them away. "Come. The bedrooms are upstairs."

Mr. Smith takes my suitcase, and I mumble a thanks and follow them. The room is nice, I guess, with a bed and a dresser, a desk and a chair. But it's not mine. I blink.

"We will leave you to unpack," Mrs. Smith says. "You can come down when you're ready, okay?"

They close the door behind them and I sink down to the floor. Breathe, I tell myself. Just breathe. It could be so much worser, I mean, I've heard stories. And it's a lot better than the locked doors at the boys home. And I don't have to share the room with strangers.

I open my suitcase and flip through my clothes until I find the pack of cigarettes Ewan gave me. He snuck in to my room this morning while I was packing, the pack and a lighter hidden under his sweater. He must have known that they wouldn't let me go home to my brothers.

Now I light up, not caring at all that I'm indoors, because I need it. I wipe my eyes again - christ, I just have to stop crying.

xXx

It's obvious Mrs. Smith has put effort into the dinner. There are potatoes and roast and a lot of vegetables, and on a normal day I would have loved it, but now I can't get a bite down. I remember my manners though, almost hearing my mom's voice in my head, how to hold the fork and knife, and sit up straight. We never really cared much at home, after they died. Mostly we just grabbed the fork in one hand and dug in, sometimes even in front of the TV. I doubt they eat that way here.

"I have a dog," Emma tells me proudly. The two girls seem less shy now, sitting next to each other opposite me. "His name's Ben."

"It's my dog," Ruth retorts with a pouting mouth. "Have you seen it?"

"Yeah," I say, putting down my cutlery. I take a sip from my glass of milk.

"We heard you're in High school already," Mrs. Smith says and smiles. "That's amazing."

She sounds too happy, like she's trying to light up the mood. I mean, there's nothing amazing about being bumped up a grade.

"Um, thanks."

"My wife can drive you to school every morning," Mr. Smith says. "But you will have to take the bus home in the afternoons."

Home? I want to tell him that this is not my home, but I don't.

"I go to school." Emma turns to her sister. "But Ruth is too small!"

"I'm not!"

"Don't squabble, girls."

Mrs. Smith tells us all to sit, and then she clears off the table.

"We'll have ice cream for dessert!" Emma giggles.

xXx

"Can I make a phone call?"

I have glanced at the black phone standing in the living room all evening, and when Mrs. Smith leaves to put the kids to bed, I can't stop myself from asking.

"Who do you want to call?" Mr. Smith takes his eyes off the TV news for a short moment.

"My brothers."

I hold my breath as he seems to think about it.

"Well, I guess you could. I see no harm in it."

I jump up. "Thank you!" I cross the floor in no time, but my hand is shaking as I lift the receiver. I punch the wrong number twice, but then I get it right and close my eyes. I wish I had more privacy but-

"_Hello_?"

It's Darry. He sounds exhausted, and I try to say something, his name.

"_Who is it_?" he says, when I have been silent for too long. Then, a bit hesitantly, but there is hope in his voice, "_Ponyboy_?"

"Yeah..."

I hear him shout for Soda, and then they both are there. I can almost picture them, standing with their heads close and the receiver between, trying to listen and talk at the same time.

"_Pony? You okay? Where are you? Should we come and get you_?"

I glance at Mr. Smith's direction. The way he sits shows that he's trying not to eavesdrop, but I know he will hear me whatever I do. But I cup my hand close to my mouth anyway, and talk low.

"I'm okay. It's a family outside of Owasso."

"_Owasso_?" Soda sounds upset. "_What the hell are they thinkin'? Owasso_?" He says it likes it is on the other side of the world. It could be. I'm here, and they are there.

"I don't know."

"_Are they good? You'll tell us if they ain't, won't you? Pony, listen, it's important. If they ain't good to you, call us. Okay? We'll come and get you._"

"Okay, Darry."

"_It's important. Don't care about what the state would say, just get out of there if they do anything-_"

"I will."

There are so much I want to say, but some minutes later, Mr. Smith starts to clear his throat and I have to hang up. Saying good-bye this time is almost the hardest thing I have ever done.

xXx

It's dark. I hear someone scream but it sounds different, and it takes me some time to realize that it's not just me. But I can't stop it. It wells up in my throat, needing to get out, needing to wake me up, and I force my eyes to open and my mind back to reality. I sit up straight, tears streaming down without being able to stop them, and I shake. I think this was the worst ever, because I can't stop shaking, even though I'm awake, and I want to scream more and more, getting all the demons out.

I put my hand to my mouth.

The other scream continues, though, and then I realize it's the baby. Someone opens my door and hurries inside, and suddenly the room bathes in light.

"Ponyboy, what happened?" It's Mr. Smith, standing in his pyjamas, looking annoyed. "You scared the girls!"

I wipe my face and look down.

"Was it a nightmare?"

"Yeah."

"Feeling better?"

Silently, I nod, but it's not true. I feel worse. I hear him sigh.

"Go back to sleep, then. We'll talk about this tomorrow."

He leaves the room and I lie down, listening to the baby's high voice coming through the walls.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading! _

_Reviews are lovely :)_


	5. Nightmares

**On a Long Road**

**5. Nightmares**

"Sorry I woke up the baby," I say quietly from the doorway to the kitchen. It's early morning now, but I couldn't sleep anymore. So I went down to smoke, just to notice that I'm not the only one up. Julie sits propped up in her baby chair at the table, and Mrs. Smith stands by the stove, stirring in a pan. She turns her head and smiles.

"Oh, don't you worry about that," she says. "This is all so very new."

"Yeah." I don't mention that it's not the first time I scream at night, and probably not the last either. "Um, you need help?"

"Oh, no, no, it's all right." She opens a cupboard and picks out a nursing bottle. "It's your first day. You will get your share of chores, but today I want you to just take it easy. Sit down and I'll make you some breakfast." She takes the pan from the stove and starts to fill the bottle with its contents.

"I just... uh, need to get some air."

I stand still for a few seconds, and when I don't get any order to stay, I turn around to go. I grab my jacket and walk through the door and out onto the porch. The kitchen window doesn't face the front yard, but I decide to walk a little further away, just in case. I follow the road until it turns, and when I can't see the house anymore, I force myself to stop. The urge of keep going is strong.

I lean against one of the trees as I smoke. It's pretty cold outside, and the sky is still dark. I wonder if I'm ever going to like it here, or at least get used to living here. I remember when Johnny and I were at the lot talking about living in the country. Maybe this could be it - I don't see any other houses around, just forests and open fields. It's not bad here, I think. It's just not home. And I'm alone, without my brothers and the gang. In the fantasies they were always with me, along with Mom and Dad. This is not how I pictured it at all.

I crush the cigarette butt under my sole, drop it in the leaves, and then I walk back, slowly, trying to collect my thoughts.

Inside, it feels like I should have knocked on the door first, before I pushed it open. Like I'm an intruder in their home, walking in without their permission, but I know that's silly because it was they who took me in. I hear their murmured voices from the kitchen, but they silence when I come. I stop in the doorway again, unsure.

"Good morning," Mr. Smith says when he discovers me. He's sitting at the table, with a cup of coffee and the morning paper. Just like Darry used to do. And Dad, before he died. But Mr. Smith looks nothing like them. Something turns in my stomach.

"Was it cold outside?" Mrs. Smith asks.

I shrug, almost unnoticeable, but she seems unfazed by my silence.

"We're going into town today," she just continues. "We have to leave Emma at school, and then go to the High school and enroll you."

I feel even more miserable hearing that.

"I know there's only a few weeks left of the semester, but I think it would be good to get you started right away."

"Sit down and have some breakfast," she adds when I don't move, gesturing at the table. I nod and slowly take the same seat I sat in yesterday.

"You want bacon and eggs?" She's back by the stove, gripping a plate and a spatula.

"Um. Yeah," I say quietly. "Thanks."

She shoves food upon the plate, then walks around the table and hands it to me with smile - she always seems to smile - but then her brows furrow. "Have you been smoking, Ponyboy?"

There's no point in denying it, I guess. "Yeah." I breathe slowly.

The look she shares with her husband is not pleasant. I stare down at my food and don't say anything, waiting for the scolding I know will come.

"Well, I don't like it. George?"

Mr. Smith sighs, looking up from his paper. "Only outside and not in front of the kids. And try to quit, it's not good for your health."

I have no intentions to quit at all, but I nod anyway. Mrs. Smith makes a little sound of disapprovement, but she doesn't say anything else, just walks up to the counter and start to fill up water in the sink, slamming the dishes down. I don't feel hungry at all, but I pick up my fork and poke at the scrambled eggs. I prefer hard-boiled, and my brothers know that. Real families know such things.

"We have to talk about tonight too," Mr. Smith continues suddenly. He sounds more stern now and I stiffen. "I'm aware of that you probably couldn't help it, but I hope it won't happen again."

I don't know what to say. Instead I stuff some of the food into my mouth. It tastes okay, but I almost can't manage to swallow it down.

xXx

I feel exhausted when we're back at the house three hours later. I have seen my new school, met with the vice principal and got my schedule, and I hate it. All of it. I didn't have many friends in school before, and they become even less after what happened in the park with Bob Sheldon, but here I got no one. I'm not even sure I want new friends either. I never asked to have to change schools. It feels like I just want to crawl into a big hole and hide from this life. I know I have nightmares that scare me like hell, but being awake is almost worse. When I sleep, I can at least wake up and get rid of them, but awake I can't even pretend it's not true I have to stay in a foster home.

I hide in the room they call mine until it's time to eat, and after that Mrs. Smith takes the two kids and drives to get Emma again.

I'm allowed to stay by myself, and as soon as I hear that the car starts up, I run to the phone. I know it's probably too early for them to be at home, so I don't let too many signals go by until I hang up, lifting the receiver again and quickly punching in the number to the DX. I sit down on the floor as I wait, and then I have his voice in my ear.

Feeling so relieved, I wrap the cord between my fingers, closing my eyes.

"Hey, Soda."

"_Pony!_"

"Can you talk now? Or-"

"_Hold on a second, don't go anywhere!_" Soda's voice sounds a bit distant as I hear him shout something, and then he's back again. "_Just told Steve to take over for me. 'Course I can talk to you, kiddo, I can always talk to you. You okay? Somethin's wrong?_"

I give him a half lie; I don't want him to worry. "No, I'm okay."

"_You sure? 'Cause if you ain't-_"

"I am. Really. Just... I don't know, Soda. It's just so much, you know?"

"_Yeah._" He almost sound close to tears now. "_Things are fucked up._"

"I think they are nice people at least," I say, swallowing. "But they ain't you and Dar." I hear him curse lowly. "Soda?"

"_Yeah?_"

"Don't cry."

"_Shit,_" he sniffs. "_I didn't mean to do that._"

I wipe my eyes with my sleeve.

"_Hey, Pone? It's all right, okay? Don't mind me, just hang in there and we'll figure things out. Me and Darry, okay? You don't have to worry a bit._"

"Okay."

"_I promise._"

"I know." There are a lot of sounds in the background all sudden, and Soda's voice becomes distant again. I can't make out what anyone is saying, but I hear my brother and Steve and other voices, until Soda is back close again.

"_Pony? I'm real sorry kiddo, but I have to go. It's my boss..._"

I nod even if he can't see it. "Okay. I'll call you some other time."

"_I'm goin' to take the day off tomorrow," _Soda says determined just before we hang up. _"I'll borrow Steve's car and come up to visit."_

xXx

I dream again. Darkness and whirling pictures of faces, voices in my head - Soda and Darry, Mom and Dad, the gang, even Johnny and Dally - they try to find me, and I try to find them, but every time I come closer to anyone, they are not there anymore. I scream their names, but they just slip away. I scream louder - _don't leave me here!_ but all I can see is their backs as they walk around, searching, further and further away from me. I try to run but can't move my legs. I know I have to get to them, before they disappear-

I open my eyes, turning around to lie on my back. My heart beats fast. I wish I could go up and sneak down the stairs to the phone, call my brothers and tell them to come and get me. I know they would. But I can't- I can't do that, and it's so frustrating. I shouldn't be here, there's no need for it. How could they not see that? The judge... I hate him so much. And I never want to see Mr. Syme again, or any of the social workers.

I fall asleep again some time later, falling hard down into another nightmare, the usual that I can't remember. This time I'm woken up by Mrs. Smith; she's shaking me lightly by my shoulders, calling my name over my screams.

"Ponyboy, please _calm down_!"

I'm trying, I really am. But I need Soda. I always have Soda after a nightmare and this kills me. It's the worst part, waking up in a different place and realizing he's not here.

A wailing starts up somewhere in the house, and Mrs. Smith lets go of me.

"Oh God, the baby!" she sighs. Even in the dark I can see that she looks annoyed.

"I'm sorry," I pant, wiping my face, but she's already gone. I sit up slowly, shaking and sweaty. I turn on the lamp on the nightstand to chase the last of the dream away, but I don't completely succeed. The feeling of loneliness is even stronger now, and my chest is aching. This is so wrong. I should be allowed to be home.

xXx

No one talks to me, but everyone stares at the new kid. It's not really easy to try to blend in into the crowd with my hair still looking stupid after the peroxide, but I try. Invisible is good.

I hate walking in new hallways, with new books and a new locker. With new classrooms and new teachers, and still the same questions about my name; if it's real or how you say it. The only good thing is that in my English class, I have a Mrs. Wells instead of a Mr. Syme. She seems nice, but you never know. I thought that about Mr. Syme once before too.

The seats are not assigned, so I mostly sit quiet in the back, trying to do my best. I have another reason for trying to do that, other than my grades. Focusing on school work, I can almost forget what awaits me when school is over. So I fill my head with history facts and math problems, trying to pretend that I'm fine.

Mrs. Smith gave me some money to get lunch in the cafeteria, but I chose to go outside to try to find a corner shop instead. But I find something else in the parking lot, and I stop when I see the familiar car.

Soda waves at me and I start running.

"You're here!"

"Told you I would be." He's grinning bigger than ever, but something is not right with it. I don't have time to think about it though, not now. I throw my arms around him and hug him even harder than last time, if that's possible. I don't want to let go. I think he doesn't either, but then we have to. Other students are staring.

We climb into Steve's car instead, and I sit in the passenger seat, breathing in the familiar scent. This is closer to home than I have been in a week.

We have only forty minutes until my next class, and I wish I could go with Soda, follow him home and forget about all this mess. Forty minutes are too short. I want the time to stop, now. But it won't, and I have to make the best of all the seconds we have gotten. I just wish my thoughts could stop spinning, so I could grab a hold on them and know what to say.

"How's Darry?" I finally manage to ask. "He knows you're here?"

"Yeah, he thought it was a great idea. He's feelin' pretty bad, Pone. I think he thinks this is his fault." Soda has one hand on the steering wheel, sitting turned to me. He looks tired, as if he hasn't slept for many nights. Some of the usual sparkle in his eyes are gone.

"It's my fault," I say, miserable.

"Don't talk that way, Ponyboy, you hear me? It ain't nobody's fault, they were just lookin' for a reason."

"I want to go back home!" I put my hands to my face, but he pries them away, holding them. He leans in close.

"I know. God, it's the only thing we want too. I still can't believe this is true."

I feel the panic start rising in my chest again. "What if they keep me until I'm eighteen?"

But he shakes his head, so sure. "They won't. I promise you, we'll get you back, okay? We're workin' on it."

"How?" I want to know.

"We're tryin' to get a lawyer. It's just, everyone Darry has talked to want so much damn money."

It's always about money. Sometimes I just want to scream in daylight too.

"But don't worry about that, Pony. We'll make it," Soda says.

I wish I could believe that.

xXx

Neither of us wants him to go, but my lunch break ends and we have no choice. Start skipping school will not be good for my record. I stand on the steps and stare at the car until it disappears out of sight. He's gone again with a promise to call, with a promise to show up often to see me, with a promise to get me home, with the words that everything will be fine. Next time he'll bring Darry, and Two-Bit and Steve wants to see me too.

I walk back into school, feeling both better and worse, and I make it through the day without any mishaps. Before I go home, I buy more cigarettes with money Soda gave me, and a Pepsi to drink on the bus. It feels odd riding the bus back, I'm so used to cars or walking. Before it comes to my stop, I fantasize about not jumping off, just to see where it can take me. Maybe to Tulsa and familiar streets. But I do climb off, and I walk down the long road up to the house they want me to call home.

Again when I walk through the front door it feels like I should knock, and then I stand in the hallway for a moment, trying to convince myself that this place is okay, that it could be worse than this. They are nice people. I have been lucky that way.

xXx

The days pass slowly. I stick to myself in school, avoiding classmates who can ask awkward questions, and I sit outside smoking on the breaks, despite the cold weather. Mrs. Smith started to make lunch for me instead of giving me money, so I have to make sure my cigarettes last until I can get new ones. Two packs a day has gone down to four sticks a day, and that doesn't help me a bit. The nicotine is the only thing that calms me when I start feeling too low and just want to go and do something stupid.

I do my homework, and try to be good and help with the house and the girls, but I still scream every night, and every night the baby wakes up too, and sometimes the girls. I can tell that Mr. and Mrs. Smith are tired of it. I've seen their looks. They don't talk to me about it, though, so I can't tell them I'm really trying not to dream. Remembering what the doctor told me that time Darry tried to stop my nightmares, I study harder, do more house work, and I run a lot, at least an hour a day before dinner. I run the small road up to the bigger one, cross it to get to the forest, and there I run on paths between trees which stands mostly naked now, running and sometimes screaming until I almost can't breathe.

I smoke a cigarette before I run back, walking exhausted inside the house and go to the bathroom to take a shower. I wish that had helped, but it doesn't. I still dream, no matter what I do.

Saturday rolls up, five nights since I got here. I go downstairs in the morning, stopping in the mid steps of the stair when I hear them talking in hushed voices.

"We knew there could be some trouble," I hear Mrs. Smith say. "It hasn't even been a week."

"We have to put our girls first, Laura."

"I know. I know that. He's just a good boy otherwise, and it's nice to have someone helping me here when you work so late. It's so dark at the evenings."

I sit down on the step, rubbing my forehead. It's a war inside me, where one side wants them to send me away and home, while the other side begs them to keep me, because it knows home is not an option.

I rise, and manage to sneak out of the house without being noticed. The dog comes out from his shelter, and I pat it absent-mindedly while it try to lick my fingers. I notice that the first snow has started to fall.

xXx

I can see the dark circles under Mrs. Smith's eyes as she feeds the baby with mashed potatoes and carrot purée during dinner time all week. Julie is chubby and almost bald, and I feel so bad for scaring her like that. I feel bad for Emma and Ruth too, especially when I heard them ask their mother when I will stop screaming so much. They have started to believe in monsters under the bed, and it's my fault. One time it wasn't even me screaming first - it was Ruth, waking everyone up. The tension in the house has just grown bigger ever since.

I get off the bus on Friday afternoon and walk through the snow in my new winter boots and coat. I have never owned expensive clothes before. They are probably not that expensive, but for me they are, since almost everything I have had before is hand-me-downs from Soda or even Darry, or bought in thrift stores. I'm smoking my cigarette paid by money my brothers send me in the mail, and stop by my usual tree, wishing I could go out running today. But it's too much snow.

I see the car when the road turns, and I know I will always recognize it. It will always mean bad news to me. My steps get slower, and I watch it suspiciously as I walk by, but maybe it's just a checkup. They can't really place me in a home and not doing checkup's, right? I still believe that as I stomp off some of the snow on the porch before opening the door.

I kick off the shoes and hang up the coat, then take my backpack to the kitchen. Mrs. Smith always wants me to do my homework at the table, as she hovers around and do small talks about our days. I don't have any homework today though, since it's weekend, but she still always wants to hear how school has been. I have always told her only the good things, and if there aren't any, I make them up. It's good that I can lie.

Ms. West sits by the table, smiling sadly at me. "Hello, Ponyboy."

I stop on the threshold, and I think I already know. I can't say how, just that I do. I feel how my heart speeds up.

"Hi."

Mrs. Smith opens the oven and takes out a cake - the good smell fills the kitchen, mockingly, like everything else will be good too just because of it. She doesn't looked at me once, but she knows I'm here.

"Can you please sit down, Ponyboy?" Ms. West says, and I drop my backpack and do as she asks. "How are you?"

I think of my options. I could say _fine_, but then maybe she thinks I'm better off here than home. But I can't say I'm not, not with Mrs. Smith around. She has never been other than nice to me.

"I'm okay," I finally decide to say. I look at Mrs. Smith, but she keeps avoiding me, now making coffee.

"I hear there is some problem with the placement here," Ms. West says, trying to hide the edge in her voice, but I can still hear it. I don't know if I'm supposed to answer to that, so I don't. I just sit quiet, knowing what the problem is.

"You disturb the family in the nights?"

I feel how I blush. "I have nightmares," I say quietly. "I don't mean to disturb."

"Oh, I know that!" Mrs. Smith quickly turns around, but it's still not me she's looking at. "We just have to think of our girls. He's scaring them when he screams." It almost sounds pleading, as if she's trying to make Ms. West understand. Which she apparently does, because she nods.

"Don't worry about this, Mrs. Smith."

"I'm sure you can find him another good home."

"Of course."

I just sit there, letting them talk over my head, until Ms. West places a hand on my arm.

"You can go and pack your things."

I feel numb as I rise. So they send me away, just like that, without even telling me? I feel awful. As I climb the stairs I wonder what is going to happen now, because I don't think they will send me home because of this. Maybe back to the boys home? I really hope not, even if the thought of a new family makes me want to throw up.

I don't have so many things so packing goes fast, and when I'm done I sit down on the bed for a while. It doesn't matter, I try to tell myself. I didn't really liked it here anyway.

When I'm back downstairs, Mrs. Smith finally dares to meet my eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Ponyboy."

I try to shrug. "It's okay."

She doesn't hug me and I'm glad for that. I look at my new winter clothes they bought for me, and wonder if I'm supposed to leave them here or take them on me, but then I stick my feet into the boots. They are mine, so I should have the right to take them.

"Bye," I say, and I'm a bit surprised to see tears in Mrs. Smith's eyes as I look at her.

"Good luck, Ponyboy."

Ms. West opens the trunk and I place my bag in it. Then she opens the door to the back seat for me, and I climb in. I wish I could have another cigarette.

"Are we goin' to the boys home?" I ask quietly as she starts to drive up the road. I refuse to look back.

"No. One of our emergency care families will take you for the night, and then you will go to your new family tomorrow."

I stare down at my lap. "Oh."

So the Smith's didn't even want to keep me for one more night. I guess that means I really screwed it up.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading! I have to admit I'm not satisfied with this chapter. I just don't know what's wrong with it. I have read through it a lot of times and really tried to fix it up, but... yeah. It seems like this is the best I can do with it. Hope you like it anyway._

_Beta-read by xXxAngel-With-A-ShoutgunxXx and Every'Piece'Has'A'Purpose :)  
_


	6. A New Family

**On a Long Road**

**6. A New Family**

Mrs. Harvey puts a plate with two cheese sandwiches and a cup of hot chocolate down in front of me on the coffee table. I mumble a thanks, wondering if I will be able to eat at all. I'm not very hungry, just annoyed and a bit sad. Ever since I set foot into this house, she has made me feel like a charity case, and I hate that. Obviously this is her way to try to save the world and feel good about herself; taking kids into her home for the night, before they are shipped off to a permanent foster home. And now I'm one of those kids.

"I'm so happy to help," she chirps again and pats my arm, for the third time, I think. "You poor thing."

I have to restrain the urge to jerk away. Instead I try to focus on the stupid TV show she's watching.

"Won't you drink your chocolate? It will get cold."

"Um. Yeah." I lift the cup and take a sip. Too much sugar. More than Soda always dumps in the pan when he makes it, and that says a lot. I put the cup down again.

"Ms. West is such a lovely woman, don't you think? I have told her to not hesitate at all and to call me anytime during the day if a child needs me. I have this big house all to myself since my dear husband died ten years ago. He had cancer, you know. He went by with his stomach ache for a very long time before he finally went to the doctor, and they said-"

I tune her out and thank my lucky star, if I still have one, that I only have to spend one night here. I don't even worry about what kind of family I will be put in tomorrow, because nothing can be worse than this. Maybe that's why the state has her in their emergency care program, so no one will complain where they are placed next.

It takes some time, but I manage to force down all the food she wants to feed me with, and then she shows me the room where I will sleep. It holds a bed, a bookcase and a dresser, and a rag rug on the floor. Mrs. Harvey has already made the bed, I notice.

"I'm pretty tired," I lie. "I think I have to sleep right away."

"Of course." She gives me a concerned look and lowers her voice. "Ms. West told me about your nightmares. But don't you worry sweetheart, I will be here when you need me."

I take a step away from her in case she will try to hug me, like she did when I came, and nod. I have already decided to stay awake the whole night, everything do to keep her away from me.

She tip toes out of the room, and carefully closes the door behind her after giving me a beaming smile. As soon as she's gone, I sink down on the bed, breathing out shakily. But I find it hard to relax- this place really creeps me out. I throw a glance at the bookcase, but all it seems to hold is books for children and toys. I wish I could call Darry and Soda and tell them about this, but when I asked, Mrs. Harvey got very curious on who I wanted to call. When she found out that Darry was the one losing custody of me, she refused to let me borrow the phone. I didn't even have the strength to argue when she kept babbling about my safety and her responsibility.

I regret it now. I should have said something back, defending Darry in every way I can.

With a sigh I rise and walk up to the window, looking out. I'm in Tulsa again, and I know where I am. If I leave the house and walk down the street, take a left where it ends and follow the bigger road for about two miles, I will end up at the Dairy Queen, only a few blocks from school. It wouldn't take me that long to get home. Maybe it is a sad thing then, that I won't stay here, because then I had at least been close to my brothers. I don't know anything about the new foster family, more than that they also live in Owasso. Ms. West seemed pleased that I can still go to my new school despite what happened at the Smith's.

With a sigh I put the curtain back in place. Instead I sink down to my knees and open my suitcase. I have three of my books with me, and one of them is Johnny's copy of_ Gone with the wind_. I have hardly cracked it since he died, but now I decide to read it. Maybe I can pretend I'm back in Windrixville with him, then it maybe won't be so hard being away. Even though it was pretty boring there and I missed Soda like hell and we were scared of getting noticed, they were still some of the best days of my life. Maybe not then, but now when I'm thinking back on them. Perhaps I feel that way because they were the last with Johnny.

I scoot back to sit cross-legged leaned against the wall. I stare at the cover. I know it's not the same book he bought - that one was destroyed in the fire - but it's still my most beloved belonging. I remember when it finally hit me that he and Dally never will come back. It took a while after I was sick to really realize that, and when I did, I opened the book for the first time and found his letter.

Maybe I really still can't think that he's gone forever. It's the same with Mom and Dad. Sometimes I think they will walk through the door again, asking if we have missed them, that the detour they took was a little longer than planned. And it's the same with this custody thing now. I keep waiting for everyone to tell me it was a mistake, that I can go home.

I hear the TV being turned off in the living room. I stiffen when I hear soft steps walking up the stairs and past the room, but Mrs. Harvey doesn't come in. Maybe she thinks I'm asleep already. I am tired, but I have to stay awake. I take a deep breath and open the book, but I can only read the first pages until it gets too hard.

I scramble up again, find the hooks to the window and open it, letting in the cold air. I have more than half a package of cigarettes left, and I smoke two, trying to make them last as long as possible.

xXx

It's a woman I have never seen before who comes to pick me up after an awkward breakfast, with Mrs. Harvey hovering around and being way too curious about my life. I don't tell her anything, I really learned from my mistake yesterday.

I silently wonder for myself where Ms. West is, but the new social worker tells me before I can ask. It's Saturday, so she's apparently free for the day.

Mrs. Burton lets me sit in the passenger seat, but tells me to keep quiet about it, since they have a policy to let all the foster kids sit in the back seat.

"Stupid rule," she tells me, and the conspiring expression in her face makes me wish she was my social worker instead. Ms. West is mostly nice, but she's nothing compared to Mrs. Burton.

"So how do you feel?" she asks me and throws a glance at me before looking back at the road.

"I'm okay."

"Unfortunately it's not so easy to place teenage boys. Most foster families apply for younger children." She glances at me again. "The family you will be staying with has one biological son who is your age, and two other foster children who have been living there for over five years now. It's a nice family."

I nod.

"You will be fine."

"Okay." It comes out as a whisper. I wish I wasn't this weak, but I have a problem handling all that's happening. I hate meeting new people and having to talk and stuff. It feels like forever since I was home, but truth is that it hasn't even been three weeks.

Mrs. Burton drives past the road that leads up to the Smith's place, and I look away. Soon we are in Owasso.

The house lies pretty close to the school, so I will be able to walk there. It's a lot smaller than Smith's house, almost as small as ours, but it's in much better shape. Mrs. Burton knocks on the front door, and some minutes later, it's opened by a chubby woman.

"Welcome. Please, come inside." She closes the door after us. "You must be Ponyboy?"

I nod, and she reaches out a hand. I take it. "Call me Mrs. Collins," she says.

The hall is bright and opens up into a living room. A boy my age sits in an armchair, looking grumpy, and two kids maybe five years younger sit on the floor, watching TV.

"This is Ricky, Sharon and Luke. Say hello to Ponyboy."

Only the girl looks up. "Hi!"

"Lets go out into the kitchen to do the paper work," Mrs. Collins says to Mrs. Burton before looking at the grumpy boy. "Ricky, show Ponyboy to your room, and carry his suitcase for him." She turns to me. "You have to share a room with my son, I'm afraid."

She doesn't wait for me to answer.

The boy gets up on his feet with a sigh. "C'mon then," he says to me. I follow him down the hall to the last door, and he pushes it open. He places my suitcase on one of the beds standing in there. Between them a desk is crammed in, and the furnitures take up almost all the space.

"I've seen you in school," Ricky says as he sits down on the only chair. "We share a couple of classes."

"We do?"

"Yeah. English and math."

I look at him, but I don't recognize him. I guess I never have paid much attention to the other students in my classes.

"You know she's only takin' you in for the money right?" he says suddenly.

"What?"

He leans forward with a smirk. "The money," he says. "She doesn't care, she just wants the money."

"Oh. Okay."

He looks a bit taken aback, like I'm not reacting as I'm supposed to. "Doesn't it bother you?"

I shrug. It really doesn't. I mean, I don't care. I don't want to be here, so their reasons for taking me in couldn't mean less. I'm going back to Soda and Darry soon anyway. I hope.

"Okay then," is all he says, and then he looks even more grumpy. I don't know what to do, so I just stand there, feeling awkward, until there's a knock on the door, and Sharon sticks her head in.

"Mom says come to the kitchen."

xXx

When it's time for Mrs. Barton to go, she asks me to come with her to the front door. She puts on her coat and puts her purse up on her shoulder.

"You know you can call the Children's welfare at any time?"

I shake my head.

"You didn't know? If there's a problem, or anything you want, you need to call us, okay?"

"Okay."

"You have the number?"

"Um. No."

She starts to dig in her purse, and then hands me a small card. "This is for the telephone exchange, and you have to ask for Ms. West since she's your regular case worker. If you call on a weekend, you have to speak to whoever working then."

"Okay."

"Don't you worry, Ponyboy. This is just information, I'm sure you will be fine here."

When she has gone, I put the card in my back pocket and then walk back to the kitchen. Mrs. Collins are just making dinner, and I help her set the table since she asks me to.

I think of what Ricky said about her taking me in for the money, but it seems a bit untrue. Sharon and Luke are both foster kids too, and they even call her Mom. Would they really do that if she treats them badly?

Just before dinner is ready Mr. Collins shows up. He's really tall, and doesn't say much. Mrs. Collins is a talker, though.

"Ponyboy," she says as we sit down to eat. "That's an unusual name. Where did it come from?"

"It was my Dad who made it up," I say quietly. I'm not comfortable at all talking about my parents with these people.

"What's your brothers names? Do they have unique names too?"

"Um, yeah. At least Sodapop. My oldest brother is named Darrel."

"Sodapop!" Sharon and Luke giggles, but it doesn't sound mean. "Like a drink?" Luke adds.

"We mostly call him Soda." After I have said that, I have to put my fork down. I don't want to talk about my brothers either. I hope they will allow me to call them later, though. I forget to ask Mrs. Barton if they have told them that I'm in another foster home now.

Mrs. Collins keeps asking me questions, but after a while I guess she notices that I don't like it, because she drops it and starts to talk about school instead.

xXx

It doesn't feel good at all sharing a room with Ricky. I have brushed my teeth and are dressed in my t-shirt and pyjama pants, and I'm really tired because of staying up almost all night at Mrs. Harvey's place. It's only eight p.m, but I can hardly keep my eyes open.

Ricky went out with his friends after dinner, and I don't think he's back yet. On the other side of the wall, Sharon and Luke share a room, and they just went to bed. I sit on my own bed now, chewing my nails and thinking of my nightmares when someone knocks and then pushes the door open. Mrs. Collins steps inside.

"Did you talk to your brothers?"

I drop my hand, and my mood sinks even more. "They weren't home."

I have tried to call home twice, and the DX once, but no answer.

"You can try again tomorrow," she tries to comfort me.

"Yeah."

"There was something I wanted to talk to you about. Ms. West told us what happened in your former foster home when she called us about placing you here."

"Oh." I look down in embarrassment, but I guess it's a good thing they already know.

"My husband Eric hurt his back at work this summer. He got a prescription from his doctor for sleeping pills, since he had a lot of trouble sleeping. We still have almost half a can left."

Sleeping pills? I think of what the nurse gave me at the boys home. It didn't really help much.

"I don't know..." I say hesitantly.

"It was just a thought. It's for your own good. You look really tired." She smiles. "I can give you one and a glass of water, and then you can decide later if you want it."

She leaves for a couple of minutes, and comes back with a glass of water and the pill, and puts it on the desk next to my bed.

"Good night, Ponyboy."

I don't know what to do. Should I take it? I guess it won't do any harm - maybe it can help me sleep this time, and I don't have to scare Sharon and Luke. They are only nine, a couple of years older than Emma. I rub my hands against my knees, and then I quickly decide. And I mean, I used to take aspirins to be able to sleep before, and a lot of them too. This is just one, with the right purpose.

I drink half the glass after I have swallowed the pill down, and then I crawl under the covers. Another bed, another room, my nineteenth night away from Darry and Soda. God. And I have only met Darry once after the State took me, and Soda twice. He said he would come again, but I know they both work a lot. I hope they won't forget about me, but that's a silly thought. They wouldn't, I know that, but sometimes it's just so hard to stay positive.

It's hard to keep my eyes open too. I don't know if it's because of the sleepless night at Mrs. Harvey's, or the sleeping pill, but I just can't stay awake.

xXx

I feel drowsy when I wake up. Confused I sit up, wondering where Soda is. I'm always the first one up, but the place beside me is empty. I can hear someone snore, though, so I look around, and then I remember. I'm not home. The one snoring is Ricky in the other bed.

There is a clock on the desk, and I pick it up, yawning. I blink when I see it's eight a.m. I've slept for twelve hours, without waking up a single time. I can't even remember any dream.

I really need to go to the bathroom, so I wobble up to my feet. Out in the hallway, I steady myself against the wall, but as soon as I'm finished with emptying my bladder, I feel better. I wash my hands and face in the sink, and then stare at myself in the mirror.

An inch of my hair is auburn, while the other is still bleached since Windrixville. It looks ridiculous. I know it will look a little better when I have greased it, though. And there is one good thing with it; it's a proof that my hair is growing back again. I know it's probably childish to still cry over my hair when I have lost so much else, Johnny and Dally, and now Soda and Darry in a way. But I can't help it. I want my hair back like it was.

I go back to the room. Ricky is still asleep, so I dress quickly, and then go to the kitchen. No one else seems to have gotten up yet, and since Mrs. Collins asked me about the phone call yesterday, I guess it's okay for me to try to use the phone again. I hope they will be home. Both Darry and Soda are usually free on Sundays, so they should be.

I almost give up after the seventh signal, but then a breathless Soda answers.

"_Pony_?"

"How'd you know?" I ask him.

"_Just had a feelin'_." I can hear the smile in his voice, but it's still something in it that is sad. He always sounds like this these days. "_We haven't heard from you in a couple of days._"

"I tried to call yesterday but nobody answered," I say, trying not to sound like I accuse him. But I think I do in a way. I want them to be there when I need them.

"_I'm sorry, I didn't know. I took an extra shift and Darry worked all day too._"

He doesn't have to say it, but I know why. They try to get the money for a lawyer. Suddenly I feel bad for being angry.

"_So how's it goin', Pone? They still good to you? I was thinkin' drivin' up soon, and maybe meet them and-_"

"I'm at another place now."

"_What_?" he bursts out. "_Why? What happened? Did they hurt you? Goddamnit, Pony, I-_"

"No. No they didn't. It was my fault."

"_Don't say that, Ponyboy. It ain't your fault. Where are you now? They haven't told us anything, those fuckin' social workers..._"

I know Soda can have a dirty mouth, but I have never heard him swear so much as he's doing right now. He continues to call them every bad name he can think of, and I almost want to laugh. But I don't. There is nothing to laugh about, really.

"But it was my fault. I kept having these nightmares and I woke up their kids all the time."

"_You had nightmares? Pony, you said they weren't that bad when I asked you._"

I want to bit my tongue off. "They ain't that bad," I lie. "It just didn't work out with the baby and all."

I hear him mutter something. I know he's angry now. Not at me, though.

"Anyway," I say, trying to sound as everything is fine. "I think it's a good family so you don't have to worry. I haven't had any bad dreams for two nights."

"_Christ, Pone. It doesn't matter. You've been in three places and it's not even a month yet. What the hell are they doin'? How can they think this is better for you than me and Darry?_"

I guess I shouldn't tell him about Mrs. Harvey. I really don't want them to worry about me. It's hard enough as it is, especially when he says things like that, because he's right.

"_So tell me then_," Soda continues tiredly. "_What are they like?_"

I tell him about Ricky and the two other foster kids, and that I don't have to change schools again. I don't tell him about the sleeping pill. It was probably only a one occasion thing.

"_Darry wants to talk to you too,_" Soda says when I'm done. "_You call back soon?_"

I promise to do that, and it's so hard to let him go.

Darry sounds even more mad than Soda when I tell him that they moved me. But he also sound sad and tired like Soda, and I feel so bad for putting them through all this. I think of mine and Darry's relationship and how it all started to get so much better, that I finally understood him, and him me, then the state just ruined it all. But somehow I feel we're even closer now, talking on the phone like it has always been good between us. I remember when I told Cherry that I thought Darry wanted to put me in a boys home, and Johnny and Two-Bit overheard it, and I feel so stupid now. How could I ever think that? What he said in the court room is true, he would give me everything if he just could. If they allowed him.

"_Listen, Ponyboy,_" he says. "_I'm goin' to call Ms. West first thing tomorrow about Christmas. I hope they will let you come home then._"

I had almost forgot about Christmas. I guess the thought of celebrating without my brothers was just too hard. But now my hopes rise slightly.

"You think they will allow that?" I ask him. "That would be great!"

We talk a few minutes more, but then I hear noises from the other rooms, and I don't want to talk when someone else can listen. So we say good bye, and I hang up, feeling as empty as ever.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Your reviews make me so happy, you don't know! Or maybe you do :)  
_

_What's not making me happy though is the research I do for this story. Ugh. It's awful how some kids has to move around. I read about a girl who had been living in 13 different homes when she was 4, another was moved 4 times in 6 months, another had 25 homes during childhood. Another had changed school so many times she could only name two. In a movie I saw based on a true story, a boy moved to 16 homes during a period of 10 years. So unfortunately what happens to Pony in this story is true for many kids :(_


	7. Christmas Visit

**On a Long Road**

**7. Christmas Visit  
**

"I hope that wasn't a long distant call."

The voice makes me jump, and I turn around quickly, wide-eyed. Mr. Collins stands in the doorway, dressed in a suit and tie, looking at me.

"Well?" he says, annoyed when I don't answer.

I shake my head. "No."

"Good. But you have to ask before using the phone. Remember that next time, I'm not made of money." He walks up to the counter and starts making coffee. I stand awkwardly in my spot, not knowing if I should apologize, or help with something or not, but then Mrs. Collins rushes in in her morning robe and discovers me.

"Oh, good, you're awake. We have to hurry, or we will be late for church." She stops in her steps and gives my clothes a doubtful look. "You have anything better to wear?"

I look down on my jeans and sweater. My nicest clothes are still at home, but I wouldn't be able to wear them even if I had them with me. They remind me too much of Mom's and Dad's funeral.

"Um. No. Sorry."

"Oh, it's fine. I guess we can have a look into Ricky's wardrobe. He grows so fast that boy." She gestures at me to come, and I go with her down the hall. Ricky is still asleep, and his mom starts to nudge at him until he opens his eyes with a groan.

"Get up," she says. "God won't wait for lazy boys."

"Geez, Mom, can't I ever be allowed to sleep in?" But he doesn't wait for her to answer, just rises and shuffles out of the room. I hear the bathroom door being shut and locked, before turning my attention to Mrs. Collins, who now stands rummaging the closet.

"Try these." She turns around and gives me a pair of black pants and a white shirt. "Ricky had them last year."

I wait until she has gone out of the room before I try the clothes on. I guess they fit. I have to roll up the sleeves a bit, but it will work. I'm not so sure about this church thing, though. It's not that I don't like it. I used to go with Mom and Dad in the past, and after they died, I went with Johnny sometimes, before Soda and Steve and Two-Bit came along with us one time and embarrassed us so much we didn't dare to return. I think it just feels weird, going to a sermon again, with people I don't even know.

My hands fidget as I button the shirt. I really need a smoke. I can't believe how seldom I smoke these days. Darry wouldn't believe me either if I told him, but I guess he would be pleased. Or maybe not. Maybe he rather have me home, smoking three packs a day instead of being here almost not smoking at all.

Ricky comes back and gives me a nasty glare, so I leave the room and go back to the kitchen, where Mrs. Collins sets the table, telling me to sit down and eat.

I have to struggle with my breakfast, but no one seems to notice. Sharon and Luke had a fight at the table when Luke drags at her braid and then refuses to say sorry. I wonder if they are real siblings, but they are not much alike. I come to think of the state, and if they hade taken Soda too, would they have let us stay together? I always think that I want Soda here with me, but maybe they had separated us. The thought of him in another foster home is even worse than being alone here.

"Stop fighting!" Mr. Collins barks, and the kids get still. I glance at him while I drink my orange juice. I'm not sure what to think of him, but I don't miss the look in Sharon's eyes as she looks down at her plate.

xXx

A door flies open and knocks into the wall. Startled I stop screaming, and when I look up, delusional and tearful with a raw throat, it takes a moment before I recognize Mrs. Collins in the blur. Her face hovers over mine, and I suck in a breath in an attempt to calm down.

"What's wrong with him?" I hear Ricky say. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him sitting up, glaring accusingly at my direction. "He just started screamin'."

"Nightmares." Mrs. Collins puts her hands around my shoulders and forces me to sit. "Ponyboy, take this," she says firmly.

It's another pill. She puts it in my mouth, and then I feel the rim of a glass against my lips. I have to swallow.

"Go back to sleep now."

I lie down, not sure what is happening, but before I know it, I can't keep my eyes open.

xXx

I'm surprised that Ricky wants to spend time with me in school. When we have classes together, he sits with me or close by, and during lunch break he asks me to join him and his friends. They don't go to the cafeteria either, so it's all right with me. One of them, Dale, has his own car, so we mostly drive around and smoking and sometimes stopping at the DQ to buy Pepsi or Coke and hamburgers with our lunch money.

"Don't tell Dad," Ricky says the first time I see him light up a cigarette out in the parking lot, and I frown a bit. There is something about Mr. Collins I don't like. He doesn't say much, but when he does, it's always about something one of us have done wrong. Both he and Mrs. Collins know that I smoke, though, and they don't say anything about it, but I guess it's different for Ricky.

He appears to be a shop lifter too. It's mostly him and a guy named Craig that steal the stuff, while we others have the job to distract the cashier. Often it's Dale, coming up with stupid questions they all laugh at afterwards. I don't. His jokes are not near as good as Two-Bit's. I really miss hanging out with him. If I could, I would even start to laugh at _his _bad jokes.

I'm mostly quiet around Ricky's friends. The first time I met them, Dale recognized me from all the articles in the newspaper three months back. I felt so embarrassed when he asked what really happened with Bob Sheldon, and Ricky looked at me curiously. I didn't want to tell them about Johnny, but I had to. But Dale already knew about that too, of course. It was also in the paper, the hero that died. Since then, Craig asks me a lot about the fire, and he seems almost creepily fascinated about the murder.

I guess that's why they let me hang around with them, because I don't feel that tough anymore. Without my own gang of friends, it feels like something within me is missing.

After school, Ricky always wants to copy my homework, and I let him. I'm not sure he will get good grades from it anyway, because I don't put much effort in it. I hope Darry won't be disappointed, but I just can't bring myself to do my best anymore. It's like I don't care; I just want to live through the days until I can get home again.

Mrs. Collins continues to give me the pills every night. The bad thing is that I'm so tired in the mornings, but at least I can sleep. They really knock me out, taking away all the bad dreams. I wish it had been Soda instead, but until I'm home, I at least don't have to deal with screaming at night anymore.

A week before Christmas Darry calls. I have talked to both my brothers- and Two-Bit once too- now and then, but he hasn't said anything about me going home, and I have been too afraid of the answer to ask. But this time, as I take the receiver from Mr. Collins, I realize I hope Darry will say something about it, and he doesn't disappoint me.

"Hi, Dar."

"_Good news,_" he says happily. "_You can come home during Christmas eve._"

I almost drop the phone, feel how I crack a smile. "I can? For real?"

"_One day only, Ponyboy, but it's better than none, right?_" he tries to convince us both.

"Yeah." My high spirit drops, but he's right. At least I can spend Christmas with them. "How come they're allowin' it?"

"_Ms. West__ couldn't really deny it. She knows I don't abuse you, and it's a family holiday._"

"But why can't I stay at home for real then?" The question just slips out of me. Darry is quiet for a long time, and first I almost think the line has went dead. "Darry?"

"_Still here, kiddo._" He clears his throat. "_I can't tell you why, Ponyboy. We all know this is a mistake, they are just too stubborn. But we will get you back. You know we have promised that, don't you?_"

"I know."

"_Just a little more time, buddy._"

I try to smile. "Okay."

xXx

They pick me up in the morning. I have stood on the curb for thirty minutes when I finally see the truck coming around the corner and stop beside me. I can't help but smile, but when Soda has scrambled out of the car I just start crying instead.

"Pony, what is it?" He hugs me tight, but all I can do is shake my head. I'm not sad, I think I'm happy. I get to spend the whole day with them, and then sleep in my own bed for one night before Darry has to drive me back.

When we climb into the car, the front door of the house opens up, and Mrs. Collins waves from the front step. Half-heartedly I wave back, just wanting to go. Back home, back to Tulsa.

Soda has his arm around my shoulders the whole ride. He's beaming, talking about how we will decorate the tree Two-Bit and Steve came with yesterday, and how great it is that I will be home.

I smile too. But I know that underneath both of our smiles is despair. The time will go too fast, and I will have to leave again, and then it will be ten times worse. Thousands of times worse. I don't know how I will be able to say good bye again.

All the tension drops when I put my feet on the porch, though. I really am home. And Two-Bit launches me up in a hug as soon as I step inside, and Steve stands on the floor with his arms crossed, but not even his smirk can hide his emotions. Not this time. I hug him too, and he flings an arm around me, a bit awkwardly, before letting go and taking a step back, his face back to almost grumpy. But I know Steve.

The house is a bit messy, and not decorated like it used to be when Mom was alive. She really liked to have all this stuff out for Christmas, but we have decided not to this year. It's the first Christmas without her and Dad, and with this foster home thing going on, celebrating is not really what we want to do in the first place.

I curl up on the couch with Soda beside me, breathing in the familiar scent of our house and the tree, not thinking at all about yesterday or tomorrow. What counts is now, talking and laughing and Darry's turkey and poker games. I feel warm and truly happy for once, and it's a good feeling. I have managed to live through so many bad things, I will manage to live through this foster care time too, knowing it only will be for a short while. It must be for a short while. I really feel I belong here, and I think that if Ms. West was here right now, she would just take one look at us and then tell me I can stay. She would see what we have, and I'm not talking about things.

Two-Bit claps his hands all sudden. "Let's make the tree pretty," he says, sounding like a little kid, and I laugh at him, feeling again how much I have missed him.

The tree stands in the corner, in its usual place at christmas. It almost reaches to the ceiling, and it's green and thick with fir needles.

"The Socs sure knows where to find them," Two-Bit says as he hangs up an ornament from the box Darry brought up from the basement.

"You stole it from a Soc?" I ask as I hang up some glitter. He gives me an offended look.

"Stole it? Geez kid, what do you think of me? I just borrowed it. I will put it back on their porch after christmas."

When we're done, Darry makes eggnog, and I drink mine even though I don't like it very much. It just feels so great, sitting here around the coffee table and talking. We are all so good at pretending. Pretending not to notice that four people are missing since last Christmas. Pretending I won't have to go away again tomorrow. Pretending we don't see the tiredness and sadness in each other's eyes.

I wish I could stop the time, but I can't. It's way past midnight when we all are suddenly more quiet, moving slower, breathing heavier, like the air has left the room. I see Darry blink, and Soda shrinking back even more into the couch.

"Can we please not go to bed?" I say, snuggling closer to Soda and trying to keep my eyes open. "I don't want to sleep."

I don't want to miss any time I can spend with them.

"Sure, kiddo," Soda says, and I rest my head on his shoulder, just for a moment.

xXx

A few days in into 1968, I lock myself into the bathroom and cry. It's Darry's birthday, and it just hits me hard that I'm not there. And Mom and Dad aren't either. They weren't there when I turned fourteen or when Soda turned seventeen, but at least we were together. Now Darry is twenty-one and he and Soda are all by themselves. It's not fair. It feels like I don't have a family anymore. The state thinks they gave me a new one, but really, it doesn't work that way.

I push my hands into my eyes and I try hard not to sob too loud. Everyone except Mr. Collins are home, and I don't want anyone to know. I feel so lost and lonely. It doesn't matter how many phone calls we manage to do, because I don't want to be talking to them by the phone. I want to be _there_. But the days just keep coming and going and I don't see any end to it. And I'm so, so scared that Darry's and Soda's promise won't come true.

xXx

"I didn't take it!"

"I had a ten-dollar bill in my wallet, Ricky, and it ain't there anymore. I know you have taken money from me before!" Mr. Collins face is red with anger, and I sit awkwardly on my bed, trying to do my homework as they shout.

"It wasn't me this time!" Ricky puts his chin out. "Why don't you ask Ponyboy, huh?"

My jaw drops and I stare at him, but he just grins at me behind his dad's back. Mr. Collins has turned to me now, and I turn my gaze to him instead.

"I didn't take it either," I say quickly.

"If you didn't do it, and Ricky didn't do it, then who the hell did it?"

I look at Ricky again. I'm sure it was him. I didn't see him doing it, but the expression in his face tells me so. His grin gets wider.

"I was Ponyboy, I saw him," he lies, looking very pleased with himself, but I can't believe he just said that.

"What?" I burst out. " I didn't!"

Mr. Collins's face gets even more red, but he's strangely calm.

"Come here, Ponyboy," he says sternly, and then he walks out of the room, leaving me with a sinking stomach. I have got a really bad feeling about this.

"You better go with him," Ricky smirks as he plops down on his bed.

"Why did you say that for?" I whisper harshly as I put my textbook down and stand up. "You know it wasn't me."

"What, it could've been you. You're just the foster kid. Everyone knows foster kids steal." He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, challenging me to say otherwise. Sometimes I really want to punch him. But I just glare at him again before following Mr. Collins back in the hall and into their bedroom. Stopping just inside, I see him walk up to their dresser and open up a drawer, and when he turns around, he has a folded belt in his hand. I stare at it and swallow, and quickly take a step back, afraid of what he's going to do with it.

"Reach out your hand, palm up," he says firmly.

I dip my head and do as he says. He hits fast, before I have the time to react, and when the leather strikes my skin it stings badly. I wince and feel tears rise in my eyes, but I blink hard so they will disappear. I refuse to cry in front of him, but damn, that hurt! My heart beats so fast, and I have to force myself to breathe evenly, waiting for another blow. It doesn't come.

But I don't dare move until I see Mr. Collins put the belt back, and then I press my arm close to my body, without bending my hand. I'm shaking, and my palm is burning, but I guess it could be worse. At first I thought he was going to ask me to take my shirt off.

"I want you to know that I don't take stealing lightly. You will pay me the money back, in one way or another. I guess you have already spent it, so then you will have to work for it."

Somehow I find my voice, but it comes out quiet and unsteady. "It wasn't me who took it."

"You want another hit with the belt?"

Mutely, I shake my head, looking down.

"Then stop lying. Go back to your room, you're grounded. You're not allowed to leave the room until I say so."

I nod and quickly turn around to do as he says, and when I'm back, Ricky closes the door behind me. I bet he stood eavesdropping the whole time.

"What did he do?" he asks.

I stand on the floor staring at my palm. It's red and a line has start to swell up across it. I curse lowly for myself, regretting sticking my right hand out - I should have taken the left. But I didn't know what he was going to do. Now I will have trouble writing my homework.

I throw myself down on the bed, feeling so tired all of sudden. Tired of everything. I hate being here. I _hate _it.

"Let me see your hand." Ricky has stepped up beside me.

"No."

"You should put ice on it."

I don't answer.

"I can go get you some."

I turn around to lie on my back, with my hand resting on my chest, closing my eyes. "Why do you care? It was your fault."

"I didn't think he was goin' to do it. He always threats doin' it, but he never does. He usually just yells."

"Why did you tell him it was me? It wasn't me."

Ricky snorts. "Because it would have been pretty stupid of me sayin' it was me, right? He knows it was one of us two anyway. Luke and Sharon wouldn't do it."

"What if I go and tell him it was you then?" I open my eyes and sit up, but Ricky just smirks.

"You think he would believe you? He's my dad, but you're just some kid living here."

I look down at my lap. He's right. Darry and Soda would believe me if I told them, but I doubt my social worker would. Suddenly I'm afraid that Mr. Collins will tell her. What if I'm in trouble now? But I didn't even do anything. And if I tell about this, he will say to them that I took money from him. So I can't say it, to anyone.

Dinner half an hour later is awkwardly silent. It feels like they are disappointed in me. It hurts a bit to hold the knife, but I manage to eat, and then I have to do the dishes, even if it's not my turn, as a part of my punishment. The warm water and soap sting too. I try to think of Johnny, and how he had it, and then it feels like I should be able to stand this. This is nothing compared to what his dad did to him.

When I'm done, Mrs. Collins takes me to the bathroom and puts some salve and a bandage on my hand.

"That was a dumb thing to do, Ponyboy," she scolds me lightly. "We took you into our home because we trusted you."

I don't say anything. If I say sorry, it's the same thing as confess, and the truth... what's the point in that? Ricky is their son, and I have only been living here for two months.

"Take your pill now and go to bed."

I take it from her, but I suddenly feel a bit insecure. The first can is already empty, and Mrs. Collins got another prescription, but I saw the can and it's not my name on the label. When Darry took me to the doctor that time, they said sleeping pills was an option, but Darry said no. He was firm about it, too, so I know I probably shouldn't.

"Come on, now."

I put it in my mouth and take the glass of water she gives me.

Later, I lie in the bed, and for the first time since I came here and started with the pills, I can't sleep. My mind is all foggy, my gaze dim, and my head hurts like hell. I hear Ricky breathe, but I don't know if he's awake or not. Slowly, I finger the bandage on my hand, thinking of how crazy it is, that the state put me here because of their opinions of Darry, and they don't even know that Mr. Collins is much worse than he can ever be.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading! _


	8. Graves

**On a Long Road**

**8. Graves**

January passes slowly and moves onto February, and one of the days I dread more than anyone else. February the 4th, the day of my parents' accident.

I have thought about them a lot lately. What my life would have been like if they hadn't gone out to grab dinner that night. If they hadn't, everything would have been different. I would be home, and Johnny and Dally might even be alive.

I don't remember why they went out that day, I wasn't really paying attention. Maybe they just wanted to go out and enjoy themselves, as it wasn't often they could to do that. But I do remember how they asked Darry to stay home with Soda and me, even though Soda said we could handle ourselves, and Darry said he had nothing better to do anyway so Soda punched him playfully on his shoulder.

I remember Soda making a mess in the kitchen and Darry telling him to clean up before Mom got home. I remember Soda and me giggling as we were trying to sweep flour up from the floor and wash chocolate batter off the ceiling. I remember a late night horror movie that we were watching, with me clutching a pillow in front of my face and both Darry and Soda too bored to watch it through to the end.

I remember Darry's eyes on the clock as it passed midnight, how he stole glances at it now and then and finally told us to go to bed. His voice was strained then, and we did as he said, because I think both Soda and I realized something was wrong.

And there was.

I sit in my desk at school on Friday afternoon, thinking about it, while my math teacher walks around in the room and places papers, backside up, on the table tops in front of us. When he comes to me, I turn it up and groan. A red C stares up at me.

"What did you get?" Ricky says, and I hold it up to show him. He smiles triumphantly and shows me his B-, like I would care. The bell rings and we both get up, heading out. I go to my locker and gather my things, before meeting him at the front door, and we start walking to his house. I'm still mad at him for lying about me to his dad, but since we're forced to live together, I don't act about it. I know there's no point. It has been weeks since then anyway, and he hasn't lied again, or stolen more money, as far as I know. At least he hasn't blamed it on me.

"Dale's havin' his party tonight," Ricky says, and I nod. That was all they talked about during lunch break. "I'm goin' to sneak out. You comin' too?"

I kick in the snow, thinking about it. Maybe it would take my thoughts off of Sunday. I know Darry and Soda will come and pick me up, and then we're going to the cemetery. I think we will visit Johnny and Dally too, and it's going to be tough. It's half of my family down there in the ground. I dig in my pocket and find my pack of cigarettes, but Ricky snatches it from me.

"Gimme your lighter."

I sigh and do as he says, and he gives me my pack back after taking one. We walk slow to finish our sticks before reaching the house, but Ricky still stops a block away and drops the cigarette butt to the ground. Then he pops a gum into his mouth, before we continue walking. His dad is never home until later, but Mrs. Collins always greets us as we step inside, and they still don't know what a chimney he is.

"Ponyboy, can you please help Sharon and Luke with their homework? I have to go to the grocery store," Mrs. Collins says as we stand in the hallway, kicking off our shoes and hanging up our jackets. She unties her apron and puts it down on a little side table, waiting for an answer, but I know there's only one that will work. I try not to sigh.

"Okay."

The kids sit in the kitchen, with their books spread out. I hear the front door shut at the same time Ricky turns the TV on, sitting down with his feet up on the coffee table. As usual he's not going to help.

I sit down next to Sharon, going over her textbook and childish scribblings in the notebook. On the opposite side of the table, Luke drops his pen.

"Ponyboy, guess what?" he says.

"What?"

He smiles brightly. "My dad's gettin' out of jail and then I can go live with him again."

I don't know much about why the kids are living with the Collins. I know Sharon's parents are dead, but everything I knew about Luke was that his parents couldn't care for him.

"Your dad's in jail?" I ask him, carefully. But it doesn't seem to trouble him.

"Yeah. He did some bad stuff, but now he's good again, and Mrs. Collins told me I'm goin' to move in with him in a couple o' months."

"You want that?"

He nods frantically, then picks up his pen again. I look at him, wondering if it's even true that his dad's allowed to have him back. I wonder what he did. I keep glancing at Luke now and then, and I can't help but feel a bit jealous.

xXx

Ricky sneaks into the room with his arms filled with blankets. I look up from the book I'm trying to read, watching him arrange his bed so that it looks like someone is sleeping in it.

"Shut the window after me," he says when he's done.

Even though I don't care if he's going to get into trouble, I can't help but ask how he's going to get in again.

"I guess you can open it for me," he snorts. "C'mon Pony!" he adds when I don't answer.

I hesitate a bit longer, but then I nod. "Okay then."

It means I will have to stay up until he's back, but it shouldn't be much of a problem. The pills don't help me these days anyway. Ever since that night, when Ricky lied to his dad and I couldn't sleep, I have noticed that it has become true to most of the nights. The pills make me tired and foggy but it's like I can't relax anymore. I don't like it, especially when the feeling follows me during the day too, but Mrs. Collins is persistent. If I try to protest, she just tells me it's for my own good.

"If Mom asks, tell her I'm asleep already."

I throw a glance at the clock, which shows eight p.m. "She ain't gonna believe me," I say.

"So tell her I'm sick!"

"You know she'll want to check your temperature if she hears that."

"God, stop bein' so damn omniscient! Make up a lie, can't you even do that?" He glares at me, before sitting down on his knees and dragging his shoes and jacket out from under his bed. He puts them on, and then opens the window. Chilly air makes its way in, and I shiver in my thin t-shirt. Ricky jumps up on the windowsill and swings his legs over the edge, turning around one last time.

"Don't screw it up, okay?"

I roll my eyes as I get up and close the window again, rubbing my arms when I'm done.

xXx

This time Ricky can't blame me even if it's obvious he wants to. But it was his bed that was empty and not mine, and him Mr. Collins went to get at Dale's place when his parents noticed he was gone.

But it was me who rat. In Ricky's opinion, at least. But it wasn't like I had any other option, seeing the rage in Mr. Collins' eyes and knowing he could turn it against me like the last time. And I shouldn't care if Ricky hates me, I think I have a bigger reason to hate him, putting me in these positions.

He stands on the floor now, glaring at me with clenched fists, and even from this distance, I can smell the beer and smoke on him.

"You just had to tell him," he says angrily.

"Wasn't my fault. Your mom came in here and-"

"Shut up!" he interrupts me. "Can't you just shut the fuck up?"

He crosses the small space and slowly sits down on his bed, wincing a bit, but obviously tries to hide it. I sit up straighter, watching him closer. I know something is wrong.

"He hit you?" I whisper, feeling concerned all sudden.

"No," he grumbles, staring down at the carpet.

I bite my lip, not knowing what to say. I think he's lying again.

xXx

It's snowing when we park outside the cemetery gates, and Darry lets his hands rest on the steering wheel without moving. Soda and I sit quietly, but I'm not sure what we're waiting for.

"Come on," Darry says finally and throws his door open. Soda does the same on his side, and then we're out of the car.

I think it's a nice day, after all. Maybe it shouldn't be. I light a cigarette and shuffles after my brothers as they walk through the gates and up the gravel path. The snow layer is thin, so it crunches under my shoes, and I try to breathe evenly. I haven't been here in a long time, and I have never seen Johnny's and Dally's graves. I was too sick to go to their funerals, and after that, I guess it's just been too hard to visit.

But now I have to.

Darry turns to the left, so sure of where we're heading, and I know he has been here more than I have. Soda's stuck to my side, looking at me now and then, giving me questioning smiles, and I smile back, to assure him I'm okay.

Mom's and Dad's stone is not one of the biggest or most expensive, but I think it fits them that it's not. We never had much money, but they were never ashamed of it. Darry shoves his hands down in the front pockets of his jeans as he stares down at it, while Soda throws himself down on his knees, wiping a hand over his mouth. None of us say anything at first, because there's not much to say. They are dead, and we can't do anything about it. I'm not even sure what we're doing here but I guess it's the right thing to do on a day like this. Then Soda breaks the silence.

"Shit," he says. "Why did they have to die?"

Darry sighs. "Things like that just happen."

"If they hadn't, Pony would be home with us," Soda snarls, refusing to look at any of us. He keeps his eyes on the stone.

I glance at Darry, seeing how tight his jaw is.

"Soda," I say quietly, and he turns around fast, so fast he loses his balance and sits down on the cold ground.

"Don't drive him back, Dar!" he says. "What can they do? We can just say he ain't at home if they come askin'."

"We can't do that, Soda," Darry answers tiredly, making me wonder if they have had this conversation before.

"Why the hell not? What can they do? Nothin'! If they can't find Pony, they can't put him away."

"It doesn't work that way," Darry tries. "We can't keep him hidden at home-"

"Jesus christ!" Soda curses. "You think he's better off someplace else? Is that what you sayin', Darry?"

"Come on, Soda, you know damn well I-"

"Do I? _Do I_? Why ain't he back home already? It's been over two fuckin' months! We barely see him!"

He looks at me now, hurt in his eyes. I want to tell him it's okay, but it's not, so I can't say it.

xXx

When Soda has calmed down, we walk to another part of the cemetery and visit Johnny and Dally. Neither of them has a stone, but we wipe away the snow that covers the two small bronze plates, announcing they are under here. I have to blink when I read Johnny's name. Somehow it makes it more real, he really is gone. And Dally too.

I don't want to stay here any longer, and I think my brothers feel the same, because we all start to walk back to the truck without a word.

We stop to eat at the Dairy Queen, but none of us manages to get a whole meal down, not even Darry. I wonder what Mom and Dad ate that day. What if they knew it was their last?

We don't stay long. We don't even take our food with us in doggy bags, just head out to the parking lot. Before I open the car door, Darry stops me and gives me some money. I try to give it back, figuring they need it much more than I do, but he says it's mine so I have to take it. I stuff the money in my pocket, and then we go home for a while, to hang out with Two-Bit and Steve. Soda is his old self again, at least if I avoid looking into his eyes, but when Darry sighs and picks up his keys, his face clouds over.

"I promised to have him back at six," Darry says.

"You don't have to make them any promises," Soda mutters, angry again. "They ain't his real family." He doesn't look at me when I put on my jacket, not even turning his head or answering when I ask him if he's coming.

Darry puts his hand in the back of my neck, and I say a weak goodbye. Soda still ignores me, and I walk out to the porch, sick to my stomach.

"It's just hard for him," Darry says as he opens the car door, and I want to shout that it's hard for me too, even worse because at least Soda is allowed to stay home. But I just nod, glancing at the front door.

Not until Darry has backed out on the street does it fly open, and Soda rushes down the porch steps. Darry waits until he has climbed in next to me, and then we're driving again.

"I'm sorry, Pone," Soda says quietly, and I nod and lean against him. I wonder what they would do if I told them about Mr. Collins. I guess they would be mad, and I'm sure Darry would keep me home despite what he said before. I think that I should tell them, because I really, really don't want to go back.

But what's the point? Ms. West would only find me a new foster home, and then Darry and Soda would worry too much. I can't do that to them. And what if Ms. West wouldn't believe me? Then I would have to stay there anyway, and Darry and Soda can't do anything about it.

The way to Owasso always feels so long when I'm there, but now when we're heading back, it feels too short.

xXx

In the beginning of March, Luke starts to spend the weekends at his father's apartment, and the Collins' start a process to adopt Sharon. I wonder when it's my turn to get some changes and see an end to this, but when I speak to my brothers on the phone, they still can't answer.

Soda comes by once a week, and one time Darry was with him, but it's harder for him to take some time off. At least I can see them, but I can't enjoy it. Every time they have to leave again, I just feel so angry.

One day as we walk from school, Ricky has to almost jog to keep up with me, even if he has longer legs.

"What's the matter with you?" he says, grabbing my arm. I jerk myself free and keep going, but he grabs me again. This time I turn around and push him. I don't know why I do it, just that I feel so sick and tired of the whole situation, and he has the bad luck to just be in my way.

"Hey," he protests, takes a step closer to gain his balance, and I push him again, so hard that he falls to the ground.

He's up again in an instant, throwing himself at me. He's bigger and stronger, but I have the advantage - I'm the one who's mad, and I don't care if it hurts. We punch at each other but our bags are in the way, so when he jerks his off and drops it to the ground, I do the same with mine.

A car drives by and honks, but I ignore it, just pant and breathe through my mouth since my nose feels funny. I hear Ricky cuss as I get in a hit straight in his eye, but then he places his fist in my gut, knocking all the air out of me. I drop down to my knees, and Ricky throws himself down on the pavement too, breathing heavily.

"What the hell?" he says, wiping off blood from his mouth with his sleeve.

"I'm sorry," I choke as I force air down into my lungs. I hide my face in my hands, but then snatch them away again when I feel pain.

"Shit, Dad's gonna kill us!" Ricky mutters. He gets up on his feet, glaring down at me. I get up too and pick up my bag, feeling something drip from my nose.

"You're crazy, you know that?" Ricky says behind my back as I start walking. I ignore him, while trying to walk with my head tilted backwards to stop the bleeding.

When we step inside the house, Mrs. Collins is there, fussing over our appearances.

"Who did this?" she keeps asking as she ushers us into the bathroom and turns on the tap. She sits me down on the toilet lid and gives me a wet towel, and then she inspects Ricky's damages. It looks like he has gotten away with only a black eye and a split lip. She leaves to get him an ice pack, and I glance at him, feeling iron taste in my mouth.

"I can't believe this is happening at school," Mrs. Collins gushes when she comes back. "I'm going to call the principal-"

"Geez, Mom," Ricky complains. "It's no big deal!"

"Then tell me who did this."

I feel how I stiffen, sure of that Ricky's going to tell, but to my surprise, he doesn't.

"It's just some guy. We were only playin' around and it got a little rough." He jerks his head away when she tries to clean his lip. "Stop it, Mom."

She sighs and turns to me. "What about you, Ponyboy?"

I remove the towel, which is not as red as I thought, and my nose seems to have stopped bleeding.

Ten minutes later, we are in Ricky's room, stuffed with painkillers and ordered to try to do our homework anyway. Ricky takes the chair as usual, and I crawl up in my bed, avoiding to look at him. We doesn't say anything to each other the whole evening, and I still wonder why he never told his parents that it was me who hit him.

xXx

My face still shows traces from the fight when Soda comes to visit on Monday. He has Two-Bit with him, and I smile at him as he moves from the passenger seat to the back, to let me sit next to Soda. But when he looks at me, he squints his eyes, leaning in closer.

"What happened to you, kid?"

"Just a fight," I say, already knowing Soda won't be satisfied with that. When I'm inside the car, he immediately grips my chin and tilts my head, but I know all that can be seen is a faint bruise on my nose and cheek.

"It was me," I try to say when he curses. "Soda, it was me!"

"What?"

"Who started it."

I regret telling him when I see the look in his eyes. He's not disappointed, he's worried, and I can tell he wants to ask me about everything. But he doesn't, he just turns the key and drives. It's not until I realize we're heading out of town and Two-Bit clears his throat in the backseat I start talking again.

"Soda, what are you doin'?"

He answers shortly. "Takin' you home."

"Soda..."

He hits the brakes, then pulls the car over to the side of the road. When he has parked, he hits the steering wheel twice, with flat hands.

"Goddamnit!"

I keep my mouth shut, seeing him glare out through the windscreen.

"I just can't do this anymore," Soda finally says. He closes his eyes and leans back. "I just want you home, is all."

A lump starts to form in my throat. "Me too."

"I almost never got to see you and then you show up with bruises on your face."

"I was just angry."

"What happened?"

"Nothin'. We were just walkin' home from school." I swallow. "I pushed Ricky and then we just started to fight. It wasn't serious."

"Not serious?"

"No."

He curses again, and sit still for a couple of seconds, but then he shakes his head and starts the car, checking the rear view mirror and makes a u-turn over the road. I know that if we stop and eat, I will miss my next class, but I don't say anything when we park outside the DQ as usual. I don't want them to leave just yet. It's bad enough that Mr. and Mrs. Collins force me to go straight to their place right after school, so that Soda only can come visit during my lunch breaks.

Two-Bit does his best to lighten the mood, as always, but Soda hardly eats and I don't either. A big part of me wishes that Soda hadn't turned around again, but I know that's not the right way to go. I remember Evan at the boys home, how they locked him in there because he ran away, and no matter how much I dislike being in a foster home, it's still better than that place.

* * *

_Thank you for reading. I don't know the date their parents died, so I just made up a date. Please review and make my day! :)  
_


	9. Adoption

**On a Long Road**

**9. Adoption**

Another month passes, and I just go along with it, feeling almost numb at times. But it's also scary how much I start to get used to this, how I move in the house like it's mine, how I start to think of things as mine; my bed, my room, my school. But I _never_ think my family. I wouldn't do that.

I start to fail in school, though. If I still went to Will Rogers, I guess my teachers would have asked me what's wrong, since they know I'm supposed to be bright and all, but here they don't know me, so they don't even bat an eye when all I get on my tests and assignments are C's or D's. Ricky even stopped asking for my homework a while ago, when he noticed he does better than me. I'm not excited for when my report card will show up. Last semester, it was okay even if it wasn't straight A's, but this time, I won't even get an A in English. I'm not even sure if I care. I know Darry does, but he's not here. That's the whole problem. That and my lack of sleep.

I don't know what pills Mrs. Collins is giving me, but they don't help anymore. I usually just lie awake half of the night, and the other half, I have crazy dreams and nightmares that are worse than before, because these nights I remember them. I don't wake up screaming at least, but I hate to have them, dreaming every night that my brothers abandon me, or Mr. Collins' belt, or Johnny and Dally and Mom and Dad coming back from the dead. So I stop with the pills, without telling anyone. I just throw them away, or if Mrs. Collins is there to see, I take them into my mouth, but spit them out in the sink as soon as I'm alone.

In the beginning, it's very hard. The withdrawal makes me not sleep at all for days, and the headaches and dizziness are so bad at times that I have to stay home from school. Then I just lie in bed in my room, with the blinds down. Mrs. Collins fusses over me and feeds me soup and gives me aspirins, but I never tell her why. But this is better, not doing anything Darry wouldn't approve of. Not that he will ever know about this, because I'm sure not telling him.

The days when I lie there, there's nothing else to do other than think, and one thing I start to doubt is me going home. I start to think that I never will. Not until I'm eighteen, despite my brothers promises. When I think that, it's almost as if I can't breathe, and I have to force the thoughts away by trying to think of something else. But it's hard.

xXx

When spring break comes I hope that maybe I can go home for a day, maybe even a night. Darry said he would ask Ms. West, but before he has the time to call me back, Mrs. Collins tells me I can't go, since we're supposed to visit her parents in Kansas. I really want to shout at her then, or throw something into the wall, because she makes it so obvious Darry has no say in it at all. It really hits me, when she says it so casually, that he's not my guardian anymore. I already knew it, but still. I feel like I almost hate her, when she refuses to let me see my brothers for so long.

We will be gone for seven days, and as we pack, Ricky tells me about the ranch and the horses, and I think of Soda and how he had loved to spend a week at a ranch. He's the one who loves horses. I never admitted it to him then, when he still rode in rodeos, but I thought horses were kind of scary when I was a kid. I think I still do.

I have to sit in the middle of the backseat, with Ricky to my left and Sharon to my right. Luke is with his dad again, and I know he will move in with him permanently in just a couple of weeks. I really can't belive what the state are thinking, when he's allowed to live with someone who has been in jail, when I can't go and live with my brothers. I bet Darry is much better than Luke's dad. Darry has done nothing wrong.

I have only been outside of Oklahoma one time before, when my parents were alive and we headed to Texas one summer. Still, I can't feel excited about going to Kansas. It all looks the same to me anyway, and the road is long and boring. Sharon falls asleep, and Ricky and I try to play a game of cards, but the cards keep falling off our laps, making it hard, and Mr. Collins tells us to be quiet, so we give up pretty quickly.

We arrive in the afternoon. Robertson's has a two-story house with a big porch that seems to go round the whole building, and the surroundings are flat ground; fields, paddocks and stables.

"Get your bags," Mr. Collins says to us, and we climb out of the car and stretch our legs while Mrs. Collins gently wakes Sharon up.

I don't remember meeting any of my grandparents even though I know I did, but I was so little when they died. I think that they maybe were a bit like the Robertson's. They seem nice, and they welcome me as much as they welcome the other kids, even if Ricky is their only real grandson. He and I have to share a room again, and I have to sleep on a mattress on the floor since there's only one bed. But I don't mind.

Ricky acts like another person while we're here. He smiles more, and sometimes even feels like my friend. Maybe it's because of his grandparents, or maybe the fact that Mr. Collins drove back home again to work all week. Even Sharon seems like a different kid, laughing loudly and playing in the yard with the dogs and cats.

It's kind of hard to admit, but in a few days, I start to like it here too. But it's not like I'm betraying my brothers, because this is not my foster home. It's just vacation. I tell myself that, but I still feel a bit bad for even thinking it.

xXx

"Are you sure you don't wanna ride, Ponyboy?" Mr. Robertson asks me on the fifth day. We're standing by the fence, looking at the horses, and Ricky who's saddling his mare.

"Um. No thanks."

"But you're goin' home in just a few days."

I flinch at his choice of words, and he must notice, because he looks at me, concerned.

"Is it so bad?"

"It ain't bad," I mumble, putting my arms up on the fence and turning my face away. I have to squint against the sun. I was up early this morning, like every morning here, sneaking out and looking at the sunrise. It's really beautiful out here, without anything to disturb the sight. Almost like in Windrixville. But it's not leaving that bugs me. It's that I won't go _home_ when we leave.

"You know, I have never asked my daughter why you have to stay in her house. I always think it ain't my business."

I don't know what to say to that, so I keep quiet. However nice he is, I don't want to tell him about my life.

"She always means well," Mr. Robinson continues. "When she was a kid, she always took care of all the animals. Even the wild ones, if they needed it. I wasn't at all surprised when she told us she was going to start taking care of foster kids."

I frown a bit, not showing it. Is that the way Mrs. Collins thinks about me? That I'm some kind of poor animal she needs to take care of?

"I'm glad she will adopt Sharon now, but I miss Luke. She will too, so I'm happy she will still have you in her house."

I let go of the fence and take a step back. "I think I'm goin' inside."

I walk away without waiting for an answer.

xXx

The next day, Mr. Collins car drives up in front of the house, and the mood changes again. The only one that doesn't seem to notice anything is Mrs. Collins. But Sharon becomes the shy, quiet kid again, and Ricky turns grumpy, scowling and muttering. I just try to stay out of Mr. Collins sight. It's not that hard, I'm just outside a lot, since he's not.

I can't wait until spring break is over. Not that I want to go back to school, but I want Soda to be able to come and visit again. Next time it will be over two weeks since I last saw him, and I can't stand it. I don't even know what's going on back home, since I'm not allowed to use the phone out here. I said I could pay for it, but Mrs. Collins still said no.

The last morning, I get up early again, sneaking out through the back door while it's still dark. I use to go down the field a bit, sitting turned to the east, trying to imagine being home. I think that one day I'm going to watch the sunrise from our back yard again. Maybe I should run away, and then hide until I'm eighteen. As long as they don't find me, as Soda said. I don't care about school, maybe Soda and Steve can teach me fix cars instead, or maybe I can be a roofer like Darry. I can hide out at Two-Bit's if the state comes-

"Ponyboy?"

I jerk at the sudden voice, turning my head. Sharon is standing there, with a blanket over her shoulders and her hair undone. Her feet are bare, and I think of how cold the ground is this time of day. But she doesn't seem to mind.

"What are you doin'?" she wonders, tilting her head.

"Um. Watchin' the sunrise."

"The sunrise?"

"Yeah." I hesitate, but then I say, "You can watch it too if you want."

She nods, and the second later, she sits close to me, staring at the horizon. We're both quiet at first. I know we're a bit too early, as there must be at least ten minutes left until dawn.

"Mom's gonna be my mom for real," Sharon suddenly breaks the silence. "I don't want Mr. Collins as my dad, but I guess he's gonna be that anyway."

I glance at her, and she looks very uncertain. I think of what he has done to me and what I think he has done to Ricky.

"Has he hit you sometime?" I can't stop myself from blurting out.

She shakes her head. "No. But he hit Luke once. He was really mean."

I frown. Luke is just a little kid. Shorter than Sharon, even.

"Did you tell anyone?"

She shakes her head again, firmly.

"Why not?"

"'Cause I really wanna live with Mom. So you can't tell anyone either!" She glares at me until I look away. I turn my gaze to the fields instead, the grass and the horses. I wonder what the right thing to do is. I feel so conflicted inside.

Then the first rays of the sun can be seen, and Sharon's face lights up. "Gosh," she says, "it's real pretty, ain't it?"

"Yeah," I agree, taking in the scene in front of me. I will never find this boring. I could watch it a thousand times, and still love it. Sunrises and sunsets, that's something that never changes.

"Hey, Ponyboy?" Sharon says, happily. "Maybe Mom can adopt you too? Then you can be my real brother!"

I feel how I freeze.

"Ricky is going to be my real brother but I like you better," she continues, twisting a strand of hair around her finger.

Even the thought of it makes me nauseous. "No."

"Why not? Mom said your parents are dead too. Don't you want new parents?"

I shake my head. New parents? I would never want that. I guess it's different for her, she was only three when her parents died, but I remember mine.

"You should go inside before Mrs. Collins wakes up," I say a bit harshly, wanting to be alone. I guess she takes the hint, because she scrambles to her feet, almost dropping the blanket.

"Okay."

xXx

On the way to Collins' place, the adoption thing is all I can think about. What if they want to adopt me too? Mr. Robertson talked about how Mrs. Collins loves to have kids in her house to take care of, and they are already adopting Sharon. But they can't do that without my permission, right? I start biting my nails, almost freaking out. I have to call Darry and ask him what will happen if they do, if we can prevent it somehow. But before I have the time to call him, I meet Soda at lunch break on Monday, and I tell him instead. He cusses up the world, telling me firmly it won't happen and ruffles my hair to comfort us both. Yesterday Mrs. Collins cut off the last of the bleached ends, and when Soda first saw me, he said it was great to see me all auburn again even though it was a little short. But he was also sad when he said it. He was smiling, but I saw his eyes, and I know why. My hair makes it so obvious how much time has passed.

But now he's only mad, and I hate seeing Soda like this. He hasn't been himself in a long time.

It turns out we don't have to worry about the Collins' plans. In fact, not the Collins at all. A week later, Luke packs his bags for the last time, crying a bit but he seems okay. I see his Dad for the first time, and he looks okay too, I guess. He's not the big, scary man I pictured, but short and thin like Luke, with a nervous smile.

Some days after that, Mr. and Mrs. Collins become Sharon's real parents, and they ask me to come to the kitchen to talk.

I feel so nervous I can hardly breathe. I try to think of ways to say no in a good way, so I won't offend them. I want to be a Curtis. I'm still hoping to be able to move back with my brothers. I still love my own parents-

"Ponyboy, please sit down," Mrs. Collins says as I turn up in the doorway. Warily I take my seat, biting my lip.

"Well, you know we have adopted Sharon," Mrs. Collins says slowly, not wasting any time. _And now we want to adopt you too..._ "And, well... we have decided that she needs all our attention to become a real daughter in this family. That means we won't be a foster family anymore."

I blink, feeling bile rise up my throat.

"I'm sorry, Ponyboy. It has been real nice to have you living with us, and of course you are welcome to stay until the semester is over. We wouldn't force you to change schools when there's so little time left of it."

They look at me, waiting for an answer. I swallow once, feeling confused about what is happening. Are they kicking me out? It's just like the last time, with the Smith's. Somehow I find my voice.

"Oh. Okay."

"Ms. West is looking for a new placement for you, so don't you worry a bit."

I nod, feeling warm and scared. This is unreal. Another home? However much I have longed to leave this house, I suddenly don't want that. I know everything here, by being here almost five months now. Things are going well with Ricky, and as long as we keep our spots and behave, even Mr. Collins can be nice. I hear Mrs. Collins talking but I don't listen; I just clench my hands in my lap, staring down at them.

xXx

Darry takes a day off the next Saturday, and he and Soda drive up and come and get me for the day. The Collins allows it without hesitation; I guess they're just longing to get rid of me, so they can have their little family.

"Listen, Ponyboy," Darry says as he drives. "I have talked to Ms. West and asked her what the hell is goin' on-"

"He even used that word," Soda sticks in.

"She's stubborn, but at least she agreed that this ain't an ideal situation," Darry continues, as if Soda didn't say anything at all. "If they continue moving you around, we might have a good case against them."

I nod slowly. Maybe it is a good thing then, that I have to move again. Hopefully it will be the last place before going home.

"And we might have found someone to help us," Soda says. "A lawyer."

My eyes widen. "You have?"

"We still have some money left to save before he will look closer into this," Darry says, sounding strained, making me wonder how much money we're talking about. "But we'll manage." He gives Soda look, and I think maybe Soda wasn't supposed to tell me, because he looks away.

"Okay," is all I say, even if I'm dying to ask more, but I think it might be better I don't know.

xXx

Things are going bad. I feel my anger return, and I can't help it. It feels like I want to scream at everyone and everything. I avoid Ricky and his friends in school, and after school, I hide in my - _Ricky's_ room - as much as I can, to avoid trouble. But I can't avoid it every time.

It starts with my History teacher holding me back after class, and then my Social Studies teacher. They both tell me similar things, that I don't seem to pay attention, that my grades are going down to F's. My history teacher, Mrs. Hanson, even goes so far to say that she will call my foster parents and talk to them about my work, and when I beg her not to do that, she seems even more determined.

That night I get into a fight with Mr. Collins. He calls me lazy and ungrateful, that I should work harder, and I'm so tired I snap back at him. I know I shouldn't have done that, he really hates it when we talk back so I usually never do, and at first I really think he's going to hit me again. But he doesn't, he just grabs my arm hard and drags me into my room and slam the door shut, telling me to go to bed without dinner. God, I hate him. For the first time I don't mind leaving at all. And I hate school and I hate my brothers for not bringing me home again. They promised me, and then they just leave me here, letting the state do whatever they want. Angrily, I wipe my cheeks with my sleeve before Ricky comes, not wanting him to see how upset I am.

But the next morning, when he sees me changing my t-shirt, he quietly studies the bruise that has formed on my arm, then turns around and starts digging in his bag.

"Here," he says, giving me a few papers. "Copy this."

"What is it?" I take them and look at them, noticing Ricky's handwriting.

"It's my History assignment. Just copy it, and leave it for your teacher."

I stare at him. "But that's cheatin'," I protest.

"So?" He shrugs. "We don't even have the same teacher, they won't know. I got a B on it, so if you get the same, they'll have to grade you at least a C if you do well on your final test later."

I guess he's right. But still, cheating... I have never done it before. But I think of Mr. Collins and what he will do if I don't manage to raise my grades, even though I have no idea why he even cares, since I will move as soon as school is over.

During lunch break, I go to the library, and then I sit with Ricky's essay and some empty papers, holding the pen in my hand. I'm not sure I want to do this, but what harm could it do? It's just an essay. It will help my grades. I think that maybe everyone cheats sometimes. Two-Bit does it, I'm sure he does. Dally, when he was alive and still went to school. Maybe Soda too, before he dropped out. And I'm behind with everything, I have a big pile of work that has to be done, and the tests are coming up next week and I really need time to study. Not having to write the history essay on my own will really help me out.

Frowning, still debating with myself about what's the right thing to do, I grip the pen harder, and then I start writing.

xXx

How they find out, I don't know. But I know I'm in big trouble when I see Mrs. Hanson's expression as soon as I open the door to room 102.

I take my seat in the back, but the whole lesson I feel her glaring at me, and when class is over, she calls out my name before I have the time to sneak out. Groaning inwards, I walk back to her, and she gives me the essay I wrote two days ago.

"Do you think I'm easily tricked, Ponyboy?" she asks me harshly.

I quickly shake my head. "No, ma'am." I look down at the paper - she hasn't even graded it.

"I know for a fact you didn't write that paper. I work closely with Mr. Stone to prevent our students from cheating. Do you know who Mr. Stone is?"

"No," I say quietly.

"He's Ricky Collins' History teacher. And he could swear he had read almost the same essay a week ago. Of course, we can't prove it. He talked to Ricky, and according to him, he has already thrown his paper away. But we know since you live with his family..." She lets the words trail off, the accusation hanging in the air.

I don't know what to say, so I just stand there. There's no point in denying it.

"I talked to your foster father earlier this week, and don't doubt I'm going to call him again. And I expect a new essay from you, with your own words this time, but I will still give you an F. Is that understood?"

"Yeah," I whisper, feeling a knot in my stomach. I won't get away with this.

I seek out Ricky before the next class, finding him by his locker.

"They know!"

"What?"

"They know I cheated. They're callin' your dad!"

He makes a grimace. "Yeah, Mr. Stone was on me about it too." He turns away again, starting to collect the books he needs for his next class. I grab his arm.

"Ricky!"

He jerks himself free from my grip. "C'mon, Ponyboy, what do you want me to do?"

"You said no one would find out!"

My heart beats fast in my chest by now, and I look at him as all he does is shrug.

"It ain't my fault if you didn't change it."

"I made changes!"

"How many?"

"I don't know. I was stressed out. Here and there."

"I guess they're just picky then. Hey, we have to go or we'll be late," he says, at the same time the bell rings and the hallway starts to clear of students.

The rest of the day I'm so nervous. I'm thinking about borrowing a phone and calling Soda. He would come and get me, I know he would. But in the end, I find myself walking home with Ricky anyway, smoking two cigarettes along the way in an attempt to calm down.

"What's he gonna do?" I ask for the third time, making Ricky sigh again.

"As long as you don't go blamin' me," he says, kicking a rock.

"Like you didn't," I mutter, but then he just grins at me. I have a feeling I won't miss him at all when I'm in my new home.

I avoid Mrs. Collins as much as I can, sitting in the room and trying to study for my finals. But I only read the words over and over, unable to really register them. And I try to write that essay Mrs. Hanson told me to, but it's like I can't. Why did I have to go and do something stupid like cheating?

I ask myself that once again when Mr. Collins comes home, and takes me into the bedroom to talk. I pale, knowing what he will do.

"I didn't mean to-" I start to say, but he interrupts me.

"First stealing money, then cheating in school?" His eyes bore into mine. "Didn't your parents raise you well enough?"

I close my eyes as he turns around, and I know he has gone to get the belt.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy, and I really want to tell you how much I appreciate your reviews! Thank you so much!_

_To the guest reviewer who asked about the movie, sorry I forgot to tell you. The movie's title is "Just ask my children."_


	10. Thunder

**On a Long Road**

**10. Thunder**

"C'mon, wake up!"

Someone is shaking me, and I turn around to hide deeper down under my blankets. It feels like I closed my eyes just moments ago; I want to sleep longer. I _need _to sleep longer.

"Ponyboy!" The voice is harsher this time, the hands firmer. "Get up!"

"Leave me alone," I mumble. I want to think that the person is Soda, or maybe even Ricky, but the voice doesn't belong to either of them, and reality slowly comes back to me as the voice speaks up again.

"The time is almost six."

I know there is something important about those words. I want to protest - it's summer and I should be able to sleep in - but somewhere I know I have to get up or I will be in trouble. So I throw the blankets away, groaning as I feel the soreness in my back and shoulders from yesterday's work as I sit up. I look at the clock on the wall, and the hand that slowly makes it way up to twelve.

"Shit!" I curse while hurrying out of bed. I find my t-shirt on the floor and drag it over my head - there's no time to wash myself - and then jump into my jeans, buttoning them as I rush past Andrew out of the room and into the kitchen, just to stop short on the threshold. Mrs. Hartridge is not there, but instead, Mr. James sits at the table with a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of him, looking up at me.

"You're late," he mutters, shoveling food into his mouth.

I swallow once. "Sorry," I whisper, curling my arms around my body.

"You know what that means." He wisps in the air with the fork, and I take a step back and nod.

"Why are you just standin' there? You have work to do," he grumbles.

"Yeah..." I slowly turn around and walk back to my room with a sigh, and when I enter, I see Andrew on my bed, lying with his arms under his head and staring up at the ceiling. But when he hears me coming in, he turns his head to look at me.

"So no breakfast?" he asks, but I think he already knows. He and his dad must have met Mrs. Hartridge on her way out, or why else would he come into my room to wake me up? He knows how firm she is about times, and it's not the first time she's refused to let me eat breakfast because I wasn't up when she left for work.

"I ain't hungry anyway," I mutter, picking up my shoes from the floor and putting them on. Andrew props himself up on his elbows.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Is Dad still here?"

I nod and sit down to tie the laces on my right shoe a bit better, avoiding Andrew's stare. But he already knows what I think about his dad, so I don't have to say anything. If I ever thought Mr. Collins was bad, he's almost a saint compare to Mr. James. I'm just lucky that Mr. James isn't my foster parent, it's really bad enough he's Mrs. Hartridge's brother and lives next door.

I have been here for about two weeks now and I haven't spoken to my brothers since the day school ended. It's killing me. I don't even know if they know where I am, but I doubt it. I think they would have visited me by now if they did. I hope so, anyway. They wouldn't just leave me, and especially not here.

"You ready?" Andrew asks eventually, waking me up from my thoughts, and I rise and follow him through the house. When we walk past the kitchen, I glance inside, but Mr. James isn't there anymore. I hope that doesn't mean he's out in the barn.

The day is going to be hot. I can feel it already, even though it's this early. Andrew puts his cowboy hat on his head and smiles as we cross the yard, but I have a hard time returning it. Once again, I wonder what Ms. West would say about this. When she drove me here, she told me that the Hartridges couldn't have any kids of their own, so they wanted a boy to raise as their son, but the truth is, they only have me for work. I know that. It's so obvious, and even if they are somewhat nice most of the time, it doesn't help much when they are always someplace else and Mr. James is the one telling me what to do.

"Hey, stop daydreamin' and help me out, will ya?" Andrew says as he hands me a pitchfork. I take it with a groan, but he just grins at me.

Most of the cows are outside almost all the time, except when it's milking time, but there are still a few inside and I have to clean up around them. Then we have to feed all the dogs and cats and make sure they have water, check the horses, clean some more, bring down the hay, it's all endless work and my back starts to hurt after just a few hours. My stomach grumbles too, making me wish I had woken up on time. I guess Mrs. Hartridge will scold me a bit when she comes back from her work at the hospital. Sometimes it feels like that is all she does; I don't think I have ever seen her smile.

Mr. Hartridge works in the barn and fields, but he hardly acknowledges me either. Sometimes he says something to Andrew, but not to me. He avoids my gaze when I look at him too.

"C'mon, Horsekid, we have to check the fence!" Andrew slaps a hand down on my shoulder, and I wipe the sweat off of my forehead with my shirt sleeve. He seems unfazed by the hard work, but he is about eight years older than me, and much stronger.

I follow him to the horses pasture; there are only four of them, but their fence is more than two miles around. Andrew stops by the gate and looks at me a bit thoughtfully.

"Hey, why don't you take a loop around and then meet up with me at the house for lunch?" He doesn't wait for me to answer, just smirks and walks away. I know he will just go and get some rest, and a part of me thinks that I should just go too, but if there is some problem with the fence, I know I am the one who will be in trouble. I stare after Andrew with a sigh, but I guess I should just start walking. It will take some time to follow the fence all around and make sure nothing has happened with it.

When I come back, I'm tired and warm and so hungry I think I will die. My feet hurt too, and I kick off my shoes in the hallway, dragging myself into the kitchen. It's empty, but I don't care. I open the cupboards and find some bread and peanut butter, and I quickly make myself two sandwiches and eat them standing right there at the counter, trying to pretend I'm not hurrying in case Mr. James shows up. I have the right to eat here more than he does - he has his own house and this is my foster family's place. I try to tell myself that, but it feels wrong and I hate it. I shouldn't feel this way, I was supposed to come here for lunch.

I make sure to clean up after myself, and then I just stand on the floor for a couple of seconds, feeling my heart beat. The house is so quiet. If Andrew is here, he must be asleep, so I go and check my room to see if he's there, but he's not. I slowly close the door again and look around, knowing I suddenly have a chance.

I know where the phone is, I have just never been allowed to use it. But I really need to call my brothers, I miss them so badly. So I make my way down the hallway to Mr. Hartridge's office, but when I try the handle, the door is locked. I lean my forehead against the wood, cursing loudly and suppressing the will to cry. I'm so close, but my brothers are still so far away.

xXx

June turns into a blur. I just work, sleep and eat, and I'm losing weight. I notice it with my jeans, how they suddenly hang more loosely on my hips. But the work also gets a bit easier with time - I'm not as tired at the end of every day like I was in the beginning.

I still can't get to the phone though, and I beg everyone I can think of, even Mr. James, who just laughs at me as if I'm asking for something stupid, telling me the phone is just for work business and emergencies. Apparently to him, calling my family is nothing that has to be done.

When I ask Mrs. Hartridge one evening, she just mutters I'm here for a reason, and she doesn't want a gang of thugs coming to her home. It doesn't matter what I say, she just tells me she has read in the newspapers about things happening in Tulsa. I'm not really sure what she means by that, but I give up asking eventually.

I have been here three weeks now, and I'm frustrated. I kick on the wall of the stall I'm cleaning, throwing the pitchfork away. It clatters as it falls down, making the cow on the other side protest with a moo.

"Take it easy," Andrew scolds me lightly, but I just glare at him as he peeks over the wall.

"Shut up," I mutter.

He sighs and shakes his head. "Get to work."

"Why? This is ridiculous."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have to! I bet Ms. West wouldn't like it."

"Who's Ms. West?" he asks, confused.

"My social worker. I'm not supposed to be here workin'. I'm supposed to be home!" I know I sound whiny, but I can't help it.

He raises his eyebrows. "Why do you have a social worker if you're supposed to be home?"

I only glare at him, and he drags a hand over his jaw and sighs.

"Listen, kid. This is a farm, right? That means a lot of work. If you'd been Donald's and Nancy's own kid, you would have been workin' just as hard as you are now. So stop fuckin' complainin' all right? I have been fuckin' workin' here since I could walk, and you don't hear me naggin' about it!" His face hardens for a second, and suddenly he reminds me of his dad. I don't move, but eventually he does, and he starts to whistle as he continues to sweep the floor between the stalls, showing that he's not mad at me.

Slowly I pick up the pitchfork again. It's not really the work that bothers me. Everyone here does their share, I know that. And maybe he's right - if my real parents had had a place like this, I guess we all would have been working, and then I wouldn't mind. What I do mind is that I hardly see my so called foster parents; they almost don't talk to me, they almost never eat with me, I would have been pretty much on my own if it wasn't for Andrew.

And his dad. I see him more than I see Mr. Hartridge, but I wish it was the opposite. Mrs. Hartridge is another thing. She leaves the house early and comes home late, and when she comes home, all she does is cleaning and the laundry and tells me to not drag any dirt into the house. She never asks me anything. Both Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Collins at least asked about my day, and cared about me, but she doesn't seem to even want a kid.

But worst is is the lack of contact with Darry and Soda. I'm worried about them. I don't know what they're doing and what they're thinking, and sometimes I wonder if they are even doing anything to try and figure out where I am. Or why else won't they come? I wait every day for them to show up or call me, but they don't. What if something has happened to them? But then Ms. West would tell me ... right? They are my brothers, she knows how much they mean to me.

I sniff once, but I have already cried too much over this. Instead, I start to work harder, and try to think about something else.

xXx

Two days later thunder is in the air. The morning is clammy and hot, and around lunch time, we see the dark clouds gather on the horizon. Andrew shades his eyes with his hand.

"Do you think it's a tornado?" I ask worried beside him. One of the dogs sits by my foot, buffing at my hand, and I pat him on his head. I have never seen a tornado before, but I have heard of them. You can't live in Oklahoma and not know what a tornado is. But to my relief, Andrew shakes his head.

"Nah, just a storm. We can't do anything about the cows, but we better take the horses inside."

He walks away, and comes back just a minute later with two halters. He gives me one, and I take it awkwardly.

"C'mon, then!"

I pat the dog one last time, and then I go after Andrew. He opens the gate and lets me in before closing it. The pasture is quite big, but we see the horses standing by the trees in the middle, and they look up as we approach.

"You take that one," Andrew says, and points at the golden brown.

"Um. Okay." I try not to show that I'm nervous, but the horse must notice, because it keeps moving away from me when I try to get the halter over its head. It kind of reminds me of Soda's horse, Mickey Mouse, but this one is a bit nicer. Finally I manage to catch it, and I turn to Andrew who curses as the first drops of rain start to fall. I hear the rumble in the distance, and knowing that thunder moves fast out here, I start walking toward the gate. I know it's dangerous to be out in open fields, and to be standing under trees when there's lightning.

We get the first two horses to their stable, and then head out again to get the others, and now the rain is really pouring. The way to the pasture has turned all muddy, and my shoes almost get stuck as I try to walk. Andrew has boots on, but I only have my thin tennis shoes.

I see the lightning and count - the thunder is only about a mile away now, so I hurry after Andrew as he opens the gate again.

This time it's even harder to catch the horse. This one keeps putting its ears back as I approach, and I don't want to get bitten. I can't get close enough.

"Take this instead," Andrew says and hands me the web lead. He catches my horse pretty quickly, but I don't know if the one I'm holding is much better. It sidesteps as the thunder gets even closer, and I have a hard time holding it. It's darker out now and I can hardly see because of the rain, but I manage to follow Andrew.

I see Mr. James outside the fence, and he holds up the gate at us, gesturing at us to hurry up. I walk past him, but right then a lightning streaks down really close, and the noise makes the horse I'm holding rear up, and the web lead slips out of my hands. Before I know what's happening, the horse gallops away over the yard.

"You stupid boy!"

My face explodes and the world turns. Delusional I realize I'm on the ground, and my nose and lip are throbbing with pain, but there is something else too. Not only the cold rain and mud and screams and Andrew shouting. I try to move away, but what feels like lashes keep falling on my side and back and shoulders.

"Dad, stop it!" Andrew shouts again and everything goes still. I lie on my stomach, with my arms covering my head and I hear voices above the ringing in my ears. I hear myself breathe too, fast and ragged, and someone touches the back of my neck.

"Ponyboy?"

Andrew drags me up to sit, and I wipe my face, but it doesn't help.

"C'mon, let me help you up."

"I want Soda."

"Stand up, okay? We have to get inside, it's gettin' worse out here."

If it's possible, the rain is heavier, and the thunder roars around us. There is no time between lightning and rumble; it's right over us, and I stumble to my feet with Andrew's help, following him over the yard and into the house.

"No dirt inside," I mumble, but Andrew just chuckles beside me.

"Too late for that."

He takes me to the bathroom, and I stare at myself in the mirror above the sink. My face is all muddy, my hair, my clothes - it's everywhere.

"Take off those clothes, huh?" Andrew says and sits down on the toilet lid. I do as he says and drag the t-shirt over my head, wincing when I feel pain.

"Why did he hit me?" I ask with a small voice.

"That damn horse," Andrew says. "You would think it's the most important thing in the world. I should've taken him myself."

"Where did he go?"

"Not far. Donald caught him, he ran towards the stable anyway. Dad is just so fuckin' uptight about him. Thinks he's worth a lot of money."

"Is he?"

"Hell no. Dad has no clue about horses." He rises. "Hey, let me see that."

He turns me around, and I feel his fingers on my back. "Does this hurt?"

"A little." Actually, a lot, and I bite my lip and jerk when that hurts too.

"Go take a shower and I'll help you later, okay?"

I nod, and he leaves. I lock the door before sitting down and dragging off my shoes. I wonder if I will get new ones, these seem almost destroyed. My clothes are not much better, and the jeans are wet and cold and feels stuck to my skin.

When I'm done in the shower, I drape the towel around me and stare into the mirror again. My nose looks terrible. I poke at it, carefully, hoping it's not broken, but it doesn't seem that way. My mouth is swollen too, and I drag my tongue over my lips before turning around, trying to look at my back and shoulders. There are a couple of long red welts over my skin, and some shorter on my left side over the ribs, and I shudder. I don't know what he hit me with, but it's a lot worse than what Mr. Collins did. Then it was mostly embarrassing, like that last time when he said to pull my pants down and I could hardly sit for a few days, but he only hit once. This is something else, and I wipe my eyes, carefully so as to not accidentally touch my nose.

I sniff and swallow and do everything to keep it down, but I hardly manage. I want Soda, _god, _ I want him to be here.

xXx

I go to my room and get dressed. The storm is still not over; the rain clatters hard against the window, and I refuse to go outside again. I don't want to meet Mr. James. Instead I sit down on my bed, but not much time passes until Andrew plunges in.

"I made us some lunch."

"I ain't hungry," I mumble, sniffing once. It's embarrassing, him standing there seeing me cry. Angrily I wipe my face. I thought I was done crying by now.

"Shit," Andrew says when he sees my face. "It ain't broken, right?" He takes the floor in a few steps and leans down to get a better look.

"Don't," I say weakly and jerk back when he touches the bridge of my nose. "Ouch."

He drops his hand. "How's your back?"

"Okay," I lie.

"I'm gonna talk to him," Andrew says, but he doesn't even try to make up some excuse. But he does coax me out into the kitchen, and we sit down and eat chicken soup and bread. I eat mine slowly, finding it hard to eat because of my mouth and the strange feeling inside, but Andrew sticks to me the whole time. As he puts the dishes in the sink for Nancy to do later, I nervously fiddle with my hands in my lap.

"Andrew?"

"Yeah?"

"Why can't I call my brothers?"

He turns around and looks at me, his face a bit troubled. "I don't know," he finally confesses. "I guess they have their reasons."

"Maybe I could call them from your house?" I try.

His expression becomes a bit amused. "Maybe you could, but we don't have a phone."

"Oh."

"No worries. I bet they're fine."

I nod, looking down. They might be fine, but I'm not.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading and all reviews! I hope this story comes out realistic, please tell me if it doesn't. And I have no idea what work you do on a farm so... yeah. Hopefully I got it right.  
_


	11. Phone Calls

**On a Long Road**

**11. Phone Calls**

I clean up the mud in the house before Mrs. Hartridge comes home, but she must notice something, because she's more grouchy than usual. Maybe I missed a spot or maybe it is because of my dirty clothes in the laundry bin.

"I'm workin' long days," she says, "and then I have to come home to this mess?"

I lean carefully against the wall in the kitchen, staring down at the floor as she slams the dishes around that Andrew and I left after lunch. She doesn't mention my face, and I don't either; her eyes only widened slightly when she first saw me, but after that, there was no reaction from her. I guess she just doesn't care, or maybe Mr. James already told her what happened.

Dinner that evening is awkward. We're all quiet, trying not to clatter with our cutlery. Usually Mr. and Mrs. Hartridge make a little small talk, even if they don't include me, but now they don't even look at each other. I sit in my spot and try to chew and swallow, but it's getting harder and harder. At the end of the meal, half of my food is left on the plate, but Mrs. Hartridge doesn't say anything about that either.

My nightmares come back that night. I wake up screaming and crying, but no one comes into my room to see if I'm okay. I sit up in bed, with my heart beating wildly and trying to calm myself down by taking deep breaths through my mouth since my nose doesn't work, but it seems to be impossible. It's the old nightmare, the one I can't remember, and I almost choke on the air as I try to drag it down.

Eventually, after what feels like hours, it feels a bit better, but I can't fall asleep again. I'm a bit surprised that I did it in the first place; my back hurts, and my face. It's worse now than it was before.

Early in the morning I give up and climb out of bed, but I don't go out to the kitchen until I'm sure Mrs. Hartridge has left. Instead I just sit smoking, trying to read until I hear the front door being shut, knowing I'm alone in the house. Then I leave my room. My eyebrows raise slightly when I find my breakfast on the kitchen table - I didn't think she would do that. But I sit down and eat most of it even if it's cold now. Mr. James doesn't show up the whole time.

My shoes look terrible. They really should have bought me new ones from the beginning if they want me working on the farm. I stand in the hallway, debating with myself whether I should walk out there anyway, but then I decide not to. I don't care if they are going to be mad at me. Instead I go to the bathroom and rummage through the cabinet for aspirins, and I find some and take them before going back to bed.

xXx

I ended up alone all day yesterday, the only one checking up on me was Andrew, and he just came by really quickly at lunch, and then headed out again. Apparently some things had been destroyed in the storm, and they had to make sure all the animals were okay. But no one said anything about my absence.

As I sit with my breakfast, Andrew pops into the kitchen, nodding at Nancy who stands drinking coffee by the counter before turning to me.

"We're goin' to town today," he says.

"Tulsa?" I ask, my hope rising. Maybe I can go see my brothers...

"No. Muskogee's closer."

"Oh."

Something must have shown in my face, because Andrew seems a little uncomfortable, and Mrs. Hartridge snorts as she dumps the rest of her coffee into the sink and walks away.

"Yeah, well, get ready in five, okay?" Andrew says, sounding a bit out of faze.

I nod before drinking the rest of my orange juice. I guess I should be at least happy that I can get out of here, even if it's just for a short while.

It's about a half an hour ride to Muskogee, and I close my eyes and lean back in the seat. It feels so good to be away from the farm, I can even ignore the pain I feel almost everywhere. But it's harder to ignore it later when we run all our errands and people stare at me as they walk past me. I guess the bruises look kind of nasty. With a sigh, Andrew takes off his hat and places it on my head instead, and then it gets a little better. I make sure to keep my eyes on the ground too.

We fill the truck with bags of dog food and then Andrew buys some medicine for one of the cows. Now and then people he knows stop us on the street to talk to him, and sometimes I hear my name being mentioned.

"That's Ponyboy, he's Donald's and Nancy's foster kid," Andrew says to them, and they say hello and I nod awkwardly. I'm still not used to the words, even though more than seven months have passed since Ms. West took me from my home.

We get groceries and beers and a bottle of vodka, and new cigarettes for me since I smoked my last cigarette yesterday. Andrew usually goes into town alone when necessary, and always brings back cigarettes for me, but I get why he told me to come today when he takes me to a shoe shop to get me a pair of boots.

"How do they feel?" he wonders when we're out on the street again. There is a trash can on the curb, and he opens the lid and throws my old tennis shoes away. I couldn't get them clean again, even though I tried.

"They feel all right." I can't believe how nice he is to me, he's not like his dad at all. And he does stuff for me he shouldn't have to do, without even being asked. Some of the things - like buying me new shoes - should've been done by the Hartridge's and not him.

We reach the parking lot, and while opening the car door, Andrew turns to me again.

"Need anythin' else?"

I remember the pay phone we walked past earlier. "You have some change?" I ask, feeling a bit bad for it. He has done so much for me already, but I can't let this opportunity go.

"Sure."

He digs into his pocket and hands me a few coins. There aren't many, but I hope it will be enough. I take them and rush down the street, almost bumping into people, but I don't stop to apologize. All I can think of is Soda and Darry's voices.

I reach the phone and lift the receiver, punching in our home number. I can't wait to finally talk to them. I miss them so much.

Two minutes later I slowly hang up, feeling devastated. No one answered. But it's Saturday and maybe they are both at work. I can't call Darry since I don't know where he's working today, but I know the number to the DX. I count the coins in my hand, then put another one of them into the slot and wait.

"_Welcome to the DX, how can I help you_?" The voice is bored, and it's not Soda's.

"Soda there?" I hurry to say.

"_He's out in the garage_."

"Can you go get him?"

First, the person is silent for a long time, but I hear voices in the background so I know he hasn't hung up. I put in another coin, but he has to hurry, or my money will run out. Then the voice is back.

"_You have to call back later, 'kay_?"

I almost get desperate. "I can't call back later! Just go get him, please."

"_Shit, kid, calm down. I can't leave the counter, there are helluva long line... wait a sec._"

He's gone again, and I have to put the last of my change in a minute later. I close my eyes as I realize he won't come back in time, and even if he does go and get Soda, I won't have the time to talk to him. There's no point in trying anymore, and I sigh when the signal that I need to put more money in comes, and then the line goes dead.

I slowly walk back to the truck, and when I climb inside, Andrew just gives me a look, but he doesn't say anything. I guess he figured it out what I was doing. The whole ride back, we're both quiet.

xXx

I have just emptied the wheelbarrow on the manure slope and turn around to go inside again, when Mr. James steps up and grabs my arm. I didn't even see him coming, but I drop the handles of the barrow, closing my eyes instinctual as I try to jerk myself free. But his grip is too firm, and he drags me closer.

"Not a fuckin' word!" he hisses into my ear.

"What?"

"Make sure you tell her it was an accident."

His eyes bore into mine, and all I can do is nod quickly, even though I have no idea what he's talking about. With a snort he lets go of me, and then tells me to come with him. He stomps away through the barn and I follow him slowly, feeling really nervous, but as we walk up to the Hartridge's house, I realize what this is about. There is a car in front of the house, and Ms. West stands beside it.

"Hello, Ponyboy," she starts, but then she makes a double take and frowns. "What happened to your face?"

I hear Mr. James chuckle beside me. "You know young boys," he says, but Ms. West keeps her attention on me.

"Ponyboy?"

"It was an accident," I say quietly, like Mr. James told me to. I wait for her to ask me more about it, but she doesn't.

"Where are Mr. and Mrs. Hartridge?" she just asks instead.

"Um. Mrs. Hartridge is at work. Mr. Hartridge is out in the fields," I tell her.

"Is it possible that they can come?"

I glance at Mr. James. He looks a bit irritated, but I guess that only shows if you know him. But he agrees to go get my foster father, and in the meantime, Ms. West and I go inside. I show her into the kitchen, and we sit down.

"Do you like it here, Ponyboy?" she asks me while opening her portfolio and putting a bunch of papers on the table. I don't really know how to answer. I don't know how this works. She came a couple of times to talk to me when I stayed at the Collin's place too, but this is different. Now it really feels like I have things I should tell her. I bite my lip.

"Not really."

She leans back. "What's the problem?"

"I...um." I nervously rub my hands against my jeans. "They won't me let me call my brothers."

Her eyes narrow a bit as she studies me, and I shift uncomfortably under her stare.

"Yes, your brothers has been very... determined to find out where you are. They have called me every day, and that's one of the reasons I'm here today."

I close my eyes briefly, so relieved at first. I realize I already knew it - I know that they wouldn't just abandon me - but to actually hear that they have tried to reach me ... but it hurts, too. All this time, almost a month. That's the time we have missed having together, without even sharing a word.

"So you didn't ... you didn't tell them where I am?" I open my eyes again and look at her.

"No. You are my responsibility. I thought that maybe you had a reason for not telling them yourself. I encourage every contact with the family, but if the child doesn't want it, or could be in danger because of it, I don't give out any information."

"I wouldn't be in danger," I mumble. "But they won't let me use the phone."

"Maybe they think it's for your own good, but I will talk to them."

I nod, hoping they will listen to her. Then she changes the subject.

"So how did this accident happen?"

This is my chance to tell her, but I don't know. What will happen if I do? I hope she will let me go home, but maybe she'll just force me to stay or move me someplace else? What if the next place is even worse? But then again, they won't let me see Darry or Soda or even talk to them here, so maybe I should rat. My foster family would just have themselves to blame if they get in trouble for me telling on them. Feeling stubborn all of sudden, I put my chin out.

"It wasn't really an accident."

"It wasn't?"

I shake my head.

"Then what happened?"

"Mr. James hit me."

"Mr. James? That would be Mrs. Hartridge's brother?"

I nod.

"Are you sure he hit you?"

What kind of question is that? I frown a bit and say even firmer, "Yeah."

She sighs and slowly flip through the papers she has with her. Then she looks up, her eyes tired.

"You know I can't let you move back to your brothers?"

I feel a pang of pain in my stomach hearing those words.

"Okay," I say, and my voice trembles a bit.

"If this is not a good home environment, I will have to move you to another one, but you have already moved around a lot. This is your third home in seven months."

I don't know what I'm supposed to say, so I keep quiet.

"It doesn't look good that you get into trouble in every family I put you in. There is a possibility that you will end up in a boys home permanently if this continues. Do you understand that?"

It almost sounds as if she thinks it's _my_ fault I have had to change homes. I avert my gaze and stare down at the table top, feeling warm.

"I will look into this, okay? I will talk to your foster parents."

"Okay," I say again, feeling how my mood sinks even more. It doesn't sound like she believes me. Maybe she thinks I just made it up, to be able to go home?

The front door suddenly opens up, and some minutes later, Mr. Hartridge comes into the kitchen too. He sits down next to me, tells Ms. West that his wife is working at the hospital and won't come home until later, and then they make some small talk about the farm and the summer season, until Ms. West gets serious again.

"You know you have a responsibility to keep Ponyboy safe while he stays in your house? Ponyboy just told me what happened to his face."

Mr. Hartridge glances at me and I blush and look away.

"What did he tell you?" Mr. Hartridge asks, but he seems oddly comfortable about the whole thing.

"According to Ponyboy, it was Mr. James, your wife's brother, who hit him."

My stomach turns. I wait for Mr. Hartridge to glare at me or start shouting, but to my surprise, he just makes a little sigh.

"That wasn't exactly what happened. Didn't he tell you everything?"

Ms. West looks at me, and the expression she has makes me understand she's on Mr. Hartridge's side already. There is no way I can get out of this, though, so I have to try to tell the truth.

"He hit me in the face 'cause his horse ran away from me," I say quietly.

"It was during the thunder storm last week," Mr. Hartridge adds gently, and folds his hands on the table in front of him. "Neil, or Mr. James, didn't hit Ponyboy. He was just pushing him away so he wouldn't get hurt when the horse reared up. Unfortunately, his elbow smacked into Ponyboy's face, but I assure you, it was a mere accident." He almost sound as he believes it himself.

"Did you take him to a doctor?" Ms. West wonders, making a little note in the papers before looking up.

"Mr. James' son Andrew helped Ponyboy. We couldn't drive anywhere, we had all the animals to take care of during the storm. A tree was struck by lightning, which fell over the fence around the distal pasture and it caused an emergency action to fix it up. I'm sorry, Ms. West, I realize now we should have taken him to the hospital, but his nose ain't broken. And my wife is a nurse, she checked him over once she got home. He's fine."

"I'm happy to hear that, Mr. Hartridge," Ms. West smiles, and I dip my head, trying to catch my breath. She believes him, not me. I shouldn't have said anything, how could I have been so stupid?

I don't listen much to what they say next, I'm so nervous about what will happen, what Mr. James will do to me when Ms. West is gone again. I wish Andrew had been here, maybe he could tell what really happened. Or maybe he wouldn't. It's about his dad, after all.

"All right," Ms. West says finally. "It's time for me to go. It was very nice to meet you both again."

Mr. Hartridge and I follow her out to her car, and he puts a hand on my shoulder, as if to show her we're good. I keep staring down at the ground. I feel so betrayed. What's the point saying anything if they don't believe me? I remember the other social worker, what was her name? Mrs. Burton. She gave me a card and said to call immediately if I needed something. But here, I can't even use the phone, and my words mean nothing.

The thought of the phone makes me jerk my head up.

"What about my brothers?" I say at the same time Ms. West climbs into her car.

"Oh, right!" She looks at Mr. Hartridge. "It would be good if you'd let Ponyboy call his brothers at least once a week," she says.

He promises her to let me do that, and then she drives away. I stare after the car, unable to move, but Mr. Hartridge doesn't do anything, or say anything, he just walks away, leaving me there.

I don't know when I start to move again. Maybe it was only after a minute, maybe half an hour. I go back to the barn since I wasn't finished with my task. I see Mr. Hartridge and Mr. James standing talking outside the open doors, and they both look at me as I approach. I nearly turn around and run, but I know I have to meet Mr. James sooner or later. And it wasn't really wrong of me to tell -

He steps up to me and slaps me in the face, not as hard as the last time, but it burns and I stagger backwards, feeling tears rise as I put my hand up to my cheek.

"Christ, Neil!" Mr. Hartridge swears. "Leave the boy alone."

"Somebody has to teach him some manners."

"Then let me do that." Mr. Hartridge grips Mr. James's arm, then turns to me. "Get back to work, boy."

I run past them, and inside the barn, I take a deep breath and rub my skin where he hit me. I hate it here. I really, really hate it.

xXx

I didn't think he would do it, but a few days later, Mr. Hartridge unlocks the door to his office and lets me inside. Another surprise is that he leaves me alone. But I don't care why, all I do is to stare at the black phone on the desk, and then I slowly walk over to the desk to sit down on the chair, my heart beating so wildly there's a buzz in my head.

They have to be home now. Have to be. I don't know what I'll do if the signals keep going and going and they're not home. I can't take it.

I guess that's why I hesitate as long as I do, but then I reach out and lift the receiver.

I try not to count, but that's impossible. But after five signals, someone answers.

"_Yeah_?"

"Steve?" I say, but that's all I have the time to manage before he starts cursing loudly at me.

"_What the hell, Ponyboy? It's been a fuckin' month since we heard from you_!"

He keeps going, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Steve!" I interrupt him finally. "They wouldn't let me call-"

"_What? Shit, Pony. You all right_?" I almost can't believe that it sounds like he cares about me. "_Where the hell are you_?"

"I'm okay," I lie. "It's somewhere south of Tulsa, out in the country. They have a farm."

"_Why didn't they let you call_?"

"I don't know," I say. "It's just stupid. Is Soda there? I really want to talk to him."

"_He and Darry are at the hospital_."

I almost drop the phone as I stand up. "What? Are they okay? Who's hurt? Steve, I -"

"_Calm down, damnit. It ain't nothin' serious, Soda just cut his hand a bit while makin' dinner. He was a bit mad_-"

"Soda cut himself?" I exclaim. "Is he okay?"

"_Geez, why don't ya shut up and let me tell you? He's okay, all right? But it bled a lot and Darry wanted them to stitch him up, is all._"

"You sure?"

He just sighs in the other end. I sit down again, trying to calm myself. I take some deep breaths while he's waits patiently.

"I don't know when I can call next time," I say with a small voice. "I just want to know he's okay. Him and Darry both."

"_Yeah, they're okay. Could be better. This is quite hard on them._"

"I know," I whisper. I feel like crying again.

"_Give me the address. We can head out tomorrow._"

I blink. "You can?"

He lets out a bark of laughter. "_You really think they wouldn't_?"

I smile, suddenly relieved again. "Guess not."

We make a little more small talk, but I don't tell him about Mr. James. I don't want to do it on the phone. I'm not sure I will tell them at all. I know they would believe me, but since I have to stay here, it would only worry them a lot. I don't know what to do, but I have until tomorrow to figure it out.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading and reviews and everything!  
_


	12. Reunion

**On a Long Road**

** 12. Reunion**

I shift between being happy and excited, being anxious and jittery, between getting worried and impatient, between daydreaming and rushing out to see if the truck will show up soon, and I think I sigh more than I have ever done in my whole life before. I smoke more than one pack too, while just staring at the road. Andrew watches me with amusement, and tries to give me small tasks to do all day so I won't think about it so much, but I can't concentrate on anything. I keep wondering why they aren't here yet, if they maybe got lost on the way or maybe they won't come at all. What if they can't come? I never gave Steve the phone number so then they can't tell me. What if he wrote down the wrong address?

"Calm down," Andrew says to me when I accidentally spill some water I'm carrying to the dogs. But I just lift my head.

"Was that a car?" I put the bowl down and rush out, but I must have heard wrong, there isn't a car in sight. I go up to the house anyway, kicking in the sand, irritated. Andrew comes this time too, and he sits down on the steps of the porch, laughing at me while I pace back and forth in the yard.

"You would think it's Santa comin'," he teases me. I stop and scowl at him, and he clamps his mouth shut, but I can tell he's still amused.

I fold my arms in front of me. "Shut up, it ain't funny," I say. "You don't understand!"

He immediately stops smiling, and something comes over his face. He stands up and walks away toward his house without a word, but I don't care. He can be thrilled or mad or whatever he feels someplace else if he wants to. I watch him disappear inside, but to my surprise, he comes back just a minute later, crossing the yard with a beer in his hand. He takes his spot on the porch again, looking at me.

"What?" I say.

"You know I have a brother too?" he says seriously.

I raise my eyebrows, not expecting that at all. "You do?"

"Yeah." He opens the bottle and takes a swing, then wipes his mouth with his arm. "I haven't seen him for two years or somethin'."

I don't know if he's trying to comfort me, or just sharing something, so I ask, "Why not? Where is he?"

"Last time I heard from him he was in Texas." He stares at the bottle in his hands, and I suddenly feel bad. Here I am complaining about a month. The thought of not seeing Soda or Darry for two years makes my stomach turn.

"Doesn't he call you?"

Andrew looks up and gives me a weak smile. "We don't have a phone, remember?" he says, but I doubt that is the only reason. Hartridges have one.

"Oh," I say anyway, like I understand.

"He had some big fight with Dad. That's why he left. I thought he would come back, but he didn't. He called once after, to Donald and Nancy, and they came to get me so I could talk to him, but he just said he was sick of Dad." He makes a grimace. "I can understand that, you know."

At first I hesitate, not sure if I should agree, but then I nod. I would probably move too, just to not have to live with Mr. James. I wonder what makes Andrew stay, but I'm not sure if I can ask. And for my sake, I'm glad that he's here. I don't even want to think of what it would have been like here if he wasn't.

A part of me wants to ask more about his brother, but something tells me he doesn't want to talk about it anymore. He just sits there, staring at nothing and drinking his beer. So I turn to the road again, but it's still empty. No car as far as I can see.

We stay about ten minutes longer, until Mr. James shouts at us and we have to go back to work. Andrew's mood makes me confused. I'm so excited that my brothers will come today, but somehow it feels wrong to be happy about it when he suddenly seems so depressed. And there is another thing that bugs me, something I still not have decided what to do with. I follow Andrew out to the tractor garage, and see him pick up a tool box from a bench.

"Andrew?"

"What?" He turns around with a sigh.

"Um ... how's my face? Can you still see the bruises?"

He squints his eyes. "A little. Why?"

I shove my hands down into my pockets, shifting uncomfortably. "I can't tell my brothers that ... what happened. They will get real worried. I ain't sure what Darry will do."

He just shrugs. "Then don't tell them."

"What should I tell them, then?"

"How should I know?" he barks harshly, and I flinch, making him sigh again and shake his head. "Shit," he curses to himself.

I stand quietly, thinking that maybe I should just leave him alone, but then he speaks up again, looking at me.

"Why don't you tell them? Then maybe you can get out of here too."

The words almost make my hope rise. What if I did? I know what Darry would do then - he would tell me to pack my bag and take me home. He wouldn't let me stay here. But I know reality doesn't work that way, and I still remember Ms. West words - _I can't let you move back to your brothers_. So what would she do if Darry really took me away from here? Place me in a boys home? She told me to not get into trouble. I don't know, but somehow it feels like if I do end up in a boys home, my chances of getting home will be nothing.

"I can't go home anyway," I say quietly. "It doesn't matter where I am if I can't be home."

"Do whatever," Andrew says, and then he goes up to the tractor and puts the tool box down on the ground. I turn around and slowly walk away.

xXx

I have started to doubt that they will come when I see them. I'm inside the house, drinking a glass of water in the kitchen when a familiar car shows up outside the window. At first I just stand frozen like and stare at it, but then I wake up, dropping the glass and rushing out. I'm in Darry's embrace before I know it, and I don't think he ever has squeezed me this tightly. I clench onto him too, like I'm desperate, and suddenly I'm bawling like a baby. I can't believe they are here, that they actually came, I'm not alone anymore -

Darry says something, but I don't hear what, and I can't answer anyway. I feel how he lets go of me, and I take a step back, sniffle and wipe my face, smiling through my tears.

" ... all right, Pony? Ponyboy?" he urges, putting his hands on my shoulders in an attempt to get my attention.

"I'm fine now," I say, and then I look around for Soda. He stands by the car, looking tired but happy, and I run from Darry and hug him too.

"Christ, Pone," he whispers in my ear. "I missed you so much!" I don't say anything, I just take in this moment, wishing it could last forever, that I could always be with them, go home with them ...

A hand is placed on my shoulder again, and unwillingly I let go of Soda. He looks a bit pale, and then I see that his left hand is in a cast almost up to his elbow.

"You okay?" I ask worried, because I didn't think the cut was that big. But he just gives me a bright Soda-smile.

"I'm fine, Pony, don't worry 'bout me."

I don't even see Two-Bit until he comes up and ruffles my hair, greeting me with his usual big smile.

"How ya doin', kiddo?"

Steve steps up next to Soda, lightning a cigarette and nodding at me. I wipe my face again, a bit embarrassed for crying in front of everyone, but Soda looks a bit teary eyed too. Then Darry frowns.

"Are you hurt, Pony?"

My heart flutters. "I tripped in the barn," I hurry to lie, hoping he won't notice. "It looked kind of nasty but it ain't serious."

Darry places a hand under my chin and watches me closer. I know most of the bruises are much fainter now, but they are still there.

"You tripped?"

"On a pitchfork. It was an accident, Darry."

"An accident?"

"Yeah. I would tell you if someone did somethin'," I say, hoping that won't make them suspicious. But I can tell that they already are, the way their gazes start to roam the place; the two houses, the barn and the stable, the garage, all the fields and pastures. All they know is that I wasn't allowed to call, that I have bruises on my face, of course they hate this place already.

"I really hope you would," Darry says, turning his gaze back at me. "Don't lie to me, Ponyboy."

"I ain't lying, I promise!"

He makes a little grunt and lets go of my chin. I don't know if he believes me or not, but for the moment, I guess he feels that he must.

I really do want to tell them what happened to my face, but I'm too afraid of the consequences. Darry would seek out Mr. James, and even if I know that Darry would win the fight, he would lose me for sure when Ms. West found out about it. If he will ever have a chance to get the custody back, I know we all have to stay out of trouble. So I keep my mouth shut, hoping I won't regret it later.

Then Soda sighs and wobbles a bit.

"Soda?" I ask worried.

"I'm okay. Just tired," he says, rubbing his eye. I stare at his hand again, then back to Darry.

"He had a hand surgery early this morning," Darry explains, and my eyes widen.

"But Steve said it was nothin' serious!" I shout out, turning to Steve, who frowns at my sudden outburst.

"I didn't know he had fuckin' tendon damages when you called!" he defends himself.

"Tendon damages?"

Soda reaches out for me and I step closer. "I ain't as bad as it sounds," he assures me. "They told me I will be as good as new when it's healed up."

I study both his and Darry's faces too see if they're just making this up to comfort me, but both seem genuine enough. I guess I have to trust them, and besides, Soda is here, isn't he? It can't be that bad if he's here. But I can sense that there is something they're hiding from me.

"What is it?" I frown at Darry, who's eyes flicker over to Soda for a moment. "Tell me!"

He sighs and looks very sad all sudden. "It just ... it's expensive. Hospital bills. I'm still payin' off of yours and-" he interrupts himself, and I close my eyes briefly. I understand even if I don't want to. They have saved up to get a lawyer, and now ... maybe all money is gone?

"I'm sorry, Pone," Soda says quietly next to me. "I didn't mean to hurt myself this much. I told Darry I could go without the surgery but-"

"No," I hurry to say. "I want you to be okay."

"We still have money left," Darry speaks up. "Don't worry about it, Ponyboy. We'll get you home soon."

I nod, deciding not to tell them what Ms. West said about her never letting me go home. As long as my brothers think we can win against the state, I will keep my hopes up too.

Soda comes around after a while, and slings his healthy arm around my shoulders as I show them to the house I'm staying at. They don't say much as they look around, and I make sure not to say _my_ room when I show them where I sleep. Soda stays close to me all the time, grimacing at everything he sees. I know this house is not that bad, it's a lot better in standard than ours, but I know what he's thinking.

We sit down in the living room, and Darry gives me the _Tell us everything_-look but Soda gets right to the point.

"They treat you all right, Pone? Why don't they let you call us?"

"Um, I guess they just want to use the phone for emergencies," I say. "But Ms. West told them to let me call you when she was here a couple of days ago. She said they should let me call you once a week."

"Ms. West was here?" Darry says. I nod.

"What about the people, then?" Soda asks.

I tell them a little about the Hartridges, but it's hard to come up with nice things, so I mostly tell them about Andrew. They still look very sceptical when I'm done, so I ask them about home instead. They don't have much to tell, though, and it's like they want to avoid talking about it.

Later we go down to the barn. I don't know where Mr. James is, but he's nowhere in sight, and I'm so relieved about that fact. If Darry would see him, he might figure out I was lying before.

Andrew is still working on the tractor. He looks up and dries his hands on a rag when he sees us, and I introduce him to my brothers and Two-Bit and Steve. I can see how they all size him up, but Andrew seems unfazed about it, even though I'm sure he notices. He just smiles and say hello, and makes a little small talk with Darry and Soda while Steve checks out the engine he was working on.

Soda is thrilled about the horses. He leans over the fence to get a better look, and his expression tells us how much he misses riding. It was usually him and Dally in the rodeo, before Soda had to quit. Andrew steps up close and they start to talk a lot about the horses and rodeo's, and I just stand there listening to Soda's voice. For a minute, everything feels fine.

But when it's dark outside, they have to go home again. I don't want them to, and I can see that they don't either. They have met Mr. Hartridge, but he played his act again as the good foster father as he did with Ms. West, and both Darry and Soda look a bit more relieved than they did when they came.

"You'll come and visit again?" I ask them.

"You bet!" Soda says and launches me in for another hug. I don't want to let go of him, and he can feel it too. "'S okay, Pone," he soothes me. "We'll be here next week."

"Next week?" I say a bit disappointed. I was hoping they could come more often, but then I sigh. I know they both have work.

After they have left, I feel an urge to be alone, I don't want to see anyone, so I turn around and run in the opposite direction. I run past the barn and follow the fence of the horses pasture, over the fields, and not even when I almost can't breathe anymore do I stop. I just continue, until my body and chest hurt more than my heart did when I saw the car disappear, and I swear under my breath when I realize I'm fucking crying again.

I run into the woods until I suddenly trip on something in the dark, and then I just lie on my stomach, hiding my head in my arms and bawling my eyes out.

xXx

It's still dark when I wake up. At first I just lie there blinking, feeling delusional and cold, but after a few minutes I sit up slowly. I rub my arms while looking around, but I almost can't see anything. My face feels all stiff and grimy, and I have no idea of where I am. I can't remember how I got here either, or how far away I ran.

I put my hands down onto the ground and push myself up. I notice that my right ankle hurts a bit when I put my weight on my foot, and then I remember that I tripped. I can't see on what, though. A stone maybe, or a root. Not that it matters. What matters is that I have to try to find my way back.

I'm lucky that it's a starry night. I can discern trees surrounding me, and hesitantly I start limping at one direction, but then I change my mind and go the other one instead, hoping it is the right way.

Sometimes I bump into boles or branches and I almost trip again a lot of times, but eventually the trees get fewer and fewer and I stand in the outskirts of a field. I hope it belongs to the Hartridges. Long in the distance I see light - it must be the houses. At least I hope it is.

It takes a longer time to walk over the field than I thought, and not only because of my leg. Did I really run this far, or am I going the wrong way? I come to a fence and have to walk all around it. I guess I could have climbed over it and walked straight over the pasture, but I don't want to do it in the dark. Who knows if someone around here has bulls or something?

I am exhausted when I finally reach the barn, and it is the right place. Sighing, I close my eyes, just to open them again and let out a gasp as someone grabs my shirt in the front. I lift my arms up to push him away, but before I have the time, he talks.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I'm sorry," I say quickly, remembering another night, when I fell asleep in the lot. But it's not Darry standing in front of me, even though I wish it was. I wish this had been that night, and then I had made things different. I wouldn't have yelled, I wouldn't have run away, and then nothing would have happened in the park. Johnny and Dally would be alive and I would be at home.

Andrew lets go of me. "Shit, Ponyboy," he says as I straighten my t-shirt again. "I saw you runnin' before, or I probably would have thought you left with your brothers."

"I can't do that, Ms. West would just put me back in the boys home," I say, like I need to explain.

In the dark, I can see him shake his head. "Just go to bed, okay? It's midnight."

He follows me to the house and make sure I go inside. Mr. and Mrs. Hartridge are nowhere to be seen, but I hear snoring from their bedroom. All the lights are on in the living room and my room, and somehow I know it's Andrew's doing, him making sure they were left on so I could find my way back.

I don't dare try to take a shower - it makes too much noise - so I just wash myself off as good as I can in the sink. I brush my teeth before climbing into bed. However tired I am, I just can't fall asleep, so I just lie there thinking of my brothers and friends.

xXx

My ankle feels better the next day, but I still have a little limp. Andrew notices and asks me about it, and then he gives me only the easiest jobs to do. I clean the horses equipment, the saddles and the bridles, and then he tells me to come with him to the neighbor to buy eggs. We take the car, because apparently people living two miles away can be called neighbors.

The week carries on slowly. I count the minutes until I can see my family again, and they come just as promised. This time Andrew asks me why I don't go with them for a ride, and I'm more than happy to do it - as long as I can keep everyone away from Mr. James, everything will be fine.

We go to a restaurant and order Cokes and burgers, and Soda makes me draw on his cast while waiting for the food. There is not much place left after Two-Bit's so called art, but I manage to put my name down. Soda complains about the cast, that it itches, and that it's hard to work with it on, but otherwise he seems to be in a good mood. For the circumstances. His eyes are still sad everytime he looks at me, even though he tries to hide it with smiles and laughter.

"How long do you need to have it?" I ask as I write down the last letter of my name.

"Doc said three weeks," Soda sighs. "Two more to go."

"What did you do?"

He glances at Steve and Darry, hesitating. "I was just mad," he finally says. "I was chopping some things for dinner and we talked about stuff and the next thing I know I have a deep gash in my hand."

"About what? What did you talk about?" I ask, even though I think I know. I don't know why I want him to say it out loud.

"That I want you home," he bursts out, suddenly sounding upset. He leans back in the booth, staring down at the table, unable to act happy anymore. "Shit, and it's your birthday soon too," he curses lowly.

Darry clears his throat and turns to me, apparently trying to turn this into a good moment again. "How about we bring some chocolate cake and come down to celebrate?"

I nod silently. I still wish I will be home by then. And I still have a hard time believing how much time has actually passed. We're already in the middle of the summer, and I haven't been in Tulsa once this season. I really miss our house and my bed and everything.

"Why can't he be home?" Soda protests. "He can come home on his birthday. We could ask."

"Okay," Darry agrees. "I'll do that."

While we eat, I'm thinking of my birthday. I will turn fifteen this time. I wonder how many more birthdays I will need to have in the state's care, if this is the only one, or if they will keep me until I'm eighteen. The thought makes me shudder, and I pick in my fries, deciding that I will be home long before that. Even if it means I have to hide for the rest of my life.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading, your reviews are better than candy! (and I love candy).  
_

_If you find Soda's wound sounding weird, I actually did my research. If you hurt the tendons on the back of your hand, they sometimes have to make a surgery with local anesthetic, you can go home the same day and you have a big cast for 3-5 weeks to keep the fingers stable. I can just hope I got it down right, though, and that they did the same at the late 60s._

_ And maybe they didn't write on casts back then? I have no clue._


	13. Absence

**On a Long Road**

** 13. Absence**

In the middle of August, I start my sophomore year in a school in Muskogee.

The night before my first day I can hardly sleep at all, but it's not because of nightmares. I have so many thoughts in my head it feels like I'm going to explode. I think of the boys home and all of the foster homes I've been to, and my own home, and it feels like I have reached a limit as to how much I can handle. I don't want to do this anymore. I want to go home. I want to go home so badly, but instead I'm just facing a new school, new people to get used to, more adults to never trust. Most of the time I think I can handle this, but the truth is that it's starting to overwhelm me, and I almost panic as I think of all the time that has passed.

I climb out of bed and walk up to the window and open it, letting the air in as I try to calm myself down. Taking a deep breath, I press my hand against my forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Shit. I really need a cigarette. I start searching the floor for my jeans; in the pockets are my pack and a lighter, and I find them. My hands shake as I pick out a stick and light up, and then I lean out the window again, sniffing once.

Losing Mom and Dad, losing Johnny and Dally, and then losing my brothers and Two-Bit and Steve too, it's not real, it _can't_ be real. Maybe I will wake up tomorrow and this will be a nightmare. I close my eyes, pretending I'm in mine and Soda's room, hoping Darry won't come inside and tell me not to smoke in the house. Or maybe I do want him to burst in through the door and yell at me, at least that would mean I _am_ home.

But one of the horses neigh in their pasture and destroys my fantasy, because there are no horses on my street in Tulsa, and the air floating in from outside is not filled with the scent of the city, but farmland and cows. I open my eyes. There's no point. There's no point in dreaming anymore.

xXx

When the morning comes, Andrew drives me to my first day in school. I don't know where my old backpack went; maybe the Collins' kept it, but Andrew had an old one he gave me yesterday. It's all empty except for some pens and a notebook, and I fiddle with them as we drive, trying to look busy. It works until Andrew parks outside the school, and then I close the zipper to the bag, but I don't move.

"You okay?" Andrew finally asks me, after a couple of minutes of complete silence.

I want to tell him no. But I know I have no choise than accept things as they are, trust that Darry and Soda will get me home. I have had new goals all the time: first before christmas, then before summer, then before my birthday. Now I will try to think I will be home before Soda's birthday. I take a deep breath and look at Andrew.

"Yeah, I'm all right," I lie. "Just nervous, I guess."

"Want me to pick you up after school too?"

I nod and try to give him a smile before climbing out of the truck, but I'm sure he can see that it's false. He doesn't say anything, though, and I'm thankful for that. It's easier to pretend if other people let me.

The whole day I clamp my mouth shut and don't talk to anyone. I just move with the crowd every time the bell rings, finding new class rooms, introducing me to new teachers, hearing snickering about my name every time someone hears it for the first time. But I don't care. I don't care about them and their mockery, I don't want new friends anyway. I only want Two-Bit and Steve to go to school with, and since it's a dream, I want Johnny to be there too, and we would go to the DX and see Soda every day at lunch break.

But instead I just sit by myself in the shadow leaning against the gym building, smoking two cigarettes and crushing the butts under the soles of my shoes, the shoes _Andrew_ bought for me, not Darry. It's suddenly hard to even look at them, like they are the evidence to everything that has happened. It should've been Darry who bought them.

When lunch ends, I go to my locker, and I hear the talk behind my back. I'm not just the new kid; I'm the foster kid too, and everyone seems to know about it now. I guess this place just isn't that big. But I try to ignore them, even though I feel my ears getting red from embarrassment.

After the last bell I go to the parking lot. Andrew is already there, and I slam the door of the truck shut after me, staring out of the windshield, ignoring his question about how my day was. I know it's not his fault, but he's a part of this life too. Maybe the rare good part, but still, I wouldn't even know him if it wasn't for the state. I wish I hadn't known him at all, that he wouldn't be the one buying me shoes and driving me to school, and I know I'm unfair. But I can't help it.

I don't say anything as he parks at the farm again, just leave the car and rush inside the house, needing to be alone. I'm glad that Mrs. Hartridge is always at work and Mr. Hartridge is always out somewhere in the fields during the day. I turn on the lights and sit down on the couch in the living room, leaning back and thinking of my brothers.

I call them every Wednesday night, and they come to visit every Sunday, so at least it's better than the first month here, but it's not enough. I want them with me always. I still live on the memory from my birthday, when they came to get me and I was home for the whole day and one night, and Soda made a cake and I got presents. But they couldn't give me what I really want, and somehow the day wasn't as happy as it could've been. There was this thought in the back of my head, and I know the others felt the same, that I had to go back to Hartridges and we couldn't do anything about it.

We talked about the lawyer too, and the money. I don't know why Darry and Soda suddenly shared it with me, the truth and all. Maybe they are about to give up, and wanted me to be prepared? I don't know. But apparently the lawyer they have spoken to wants a large amount to even look at my case, decide if there even _is_ a case and then, if he feels he can take it to court and whichever we win there or not, he wants even more money. I don't know how Darry and Soda will even be able to save up for all of that. And with Soda's accident, there are even more bills to the stack. Sometimes it feels like I will never get home, even though I try not to think that way.

But that lawyer was the only one who didn't just look over my brothers once and then simply tell them they were busy. He was the only one who didn't say to them that it's useless before even hearing them out properly. I know we look poor, but I hate that most people don't even want to listen to what we have to say. I should have known by now, though, with my essay and all. If we try to get people to listen, they will just backstab us anyway. We're no good in anyone's eyes. Maybe this is the right place for me, maybe I don't deserve to be living at home. Maybe the state is right; I am just trouble.

The front door opens up and I jerk where I sit, but it's just Mrs. Hartridge coming home. She has her hands full with grocery bags, and without a word, I get up to help her. She doesn't say anything either, just starts with dinner as I put the stuff away.

I hate how much I know this place, and where everything has their spot. I shouldn't know; this is _not_ my home.

xXx

On the second week of the new semester I'm just getting myself ready to go to the bus, but at the same time I heave my backpack up on my shoulder and walk out, Mr. James shows up around the corner of the house.

"You're stayin' home," he grunts when he sees me on the porch. "Andrew ain't home today and I need you in the barn."

"What?"

"You heard me. Put that down." He gestures to my bag.

"But -" I start, but the glare in his eyes makes me not dare object. I slowly open the door again to put the bag down in the hallway, and then I follow him to the barn, wondering where Andrew is. But I'm sure not asking his dad about it. I try hard not to anger him, so I won't have anymore bruises to show when my brothers come to visit, and so far it has worked, Mr. James has mostly left me alone. It's only words now, but they don't sting that much since I don't care what he thinks anyway.

At lunch time, I'm just standing on the floor, wiping the sweat off of my forehead with my arm, when Andrew suddenly shows up in the doorway. He raises his eyebrows when he sees me.

"Ain't you in school?" he asks, putting down a big, brown sack just inside the door.

I shake my head. "Your dad told me not to." I wait for some sort of reply, but the only thing he does is shrug and then leaves again. I frown before going after him out to his truck, watching him unload another sack.

"You cool about that?" I ask him, and he throws me a glance.

"I don't care much about that stuff," he says lightly before walking past me and back to the barn. I try to pick out the last sack while I wait for him to return, but it's too heavy for me.

"Wait, I got it." He sneaks up from behind and takes it from me. This time I follow him to the barn again.

"You don't care about school?" I ask as we enter.

"No, not really," he says, putting down the sack next to the others and turns to face me. "I mean, they don't teach anythin' I need to know anyway."

"Don't you think it's important?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "I work on a farm, Ponyboy. It ain't like the teachers know anything about cows or calves or horses, or how to harvest."

"So you didn't graduate?"

"No point wastin' my time, right?" He smiles at me, but then he suddenly gets serious, meeting my gaze. "But if you think it's important, you should go, okay? Don't let my dad keep you home if you don't want to."

"Okay," I say, but I know it's not as easy as he makes it sound.

And I'm right. It only takes a couple of days before Mr. James tells me to stay home again, this time to supervise one of the cows who will be having a calf any day now, and I find myself not saying anything at all. I have to admit I'm too scared to even try to cross him, and he must notice by the way he smirks at me when I just put my bag down and come along.

I think he does it just to tease me or something, or to see how much he can make me obey him before I object, and I hate that I don't object at all. I just let him decide what to do or not. It's not that I really want to go to school either, sometimes I couldn't care less, but this whole ditching thing makes me feel strange, and I wonder what Darry would say if he knew.

My teachers start to bug me about my absence in school and how behind I am. A month later, I have been gone at least once a week, sometimes twice, and it's getting harder to keep up in class. It's worse than it was back in Owasso, and I really want to raise my lousy grades, but I can't even do my homework. As soon as I sit down with my books, Mr. James is on me that everyone needs to pull their weight here and that I'm lazy. So I have to put my pen down and go to the barn until dinner, and after dinner I'm too tired to really get what I'm reading. So I start to do most of the work in the library during lunch instead, and it gets a little better, but since I still have days I'm not there at all, it's not enough.

I don't know what Mr. Hartridge thinks about it. Most of the time he just does like Andrew, doesn't say anything at all and seems to think it's just my own choice to not go, but one day when he comes into the barn and discovers me cleaning the stalls, he walks up to Mr. James.

"What are you doin'?" he asks. "You know the boy needs to go to school."

"He's bein' put to much better use here," Mr. James grunts, trying to walk past him, but Mr. Hartridge puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't walk away when I'm talkin' to you!"

"He ain't here to go to school, is he?" Mr. James spits. "And what's the point sendin' him there? I'm sure he's too dumb anyway. Just look at him."

I blush and stop staring at them, looking down at the pitchfork in my hands and then quickly go back to work, trying not to show that I'm listening to their argument. But they don't seem to care that I hear them, they just continue with their harsh voices, and they mention Andrew and someone named Douglas too. I think that must be Andrew's brother. Their argument stops when Mr. James stomps away. Mr. Hartridge sighs and starts to follow him out, but when he walks past the stall I'm in, he stops. Suddenly he looks almost sad when he looks at me.

"You're not here just as some unwaged worker," he says a bit quiet, as if he's unsure he should tell me.

I feel very uncomfortable. "Okay," I mumble.

"I just thought it would be different," Mr. Hartridge continues. "I never had a son."

I don't know what to say, but I don't have to think much of it, because then he just walks away.

xXx

The anniversary of Johnny's and Dally's deaths comes and goes at the end of September, making me feel even more miserable. I have been very distracted about it for the past week, and suddenly I don't mind that Mr. James keeps me home from school. It's a lot easier working hard physically than trying to to fill my head with schoolwork when it's already filled with a lot of other thoughts that refuse to go away no matter how hard I try. I think of the happenings in the park, the fire and the gunshots - it was really a year ago. A year ago my life crashed down twice. Soon, a year ago, I wrote the damn essay and made it impossible to build it up again.

Mr. Hartridge doesn't care about me ditching anymore, because he hasn't said anything else about it. Maybe it's because Andrew has gotten a bad flu and needs to take it easy, and Mr. James has made me to do his work too. I'm exhausted when I go to bed in the evenings, and I'm worried about Andrew. He usually does his work even when he doesn't feel so good, so he must have it real bad now.

At the beginning of October, close to Soda's Eighteenth birthday, I have been away from school the whole week, but still I'm really surprised when Ms. West suddenly turns up in the open doorway to the barn.

"Ponyboy?" she says, and I stop halfway down the aisle with the wheelbarrow and turn my head.

"Um. Hi, Ms. West." I let go of the handles to go to her, wondering what she's doing here. I haven't seen her since she accused me of lying, and I don't like her. I stop a few feet away, knowing I'm probably glaring at her but I can't help it. She seems to ignore it, though.

"I have had a call from the school," she informs me. "Apparently you have a high rate of absence. They are worried about you."

I keep my mouth shut. I guess she wouldn't believe me if I told her why anyway.

"You know education is important, I hope." When I still don't answer, she sighs and looks around. "Where are Mr. and Mrs. Hartridge?"

This time I shrug. "Mrs. Hartridge is workin' her shift at the hospital. I don't know where Mr. Hartridge is," I mumble.

"You don't know?"

I shake my head.

"Do your foster parents know you're home from school today? Are they keeping you here?"

I don't answer that either, she would probably just say it's my fault.

"Ponyboy, I need you to talk to me."

"Why?" I suddenly burst out. "You didn't listen before!"

She looks really taken aback. I cross my arms and stare down at the floor, refusing to even look at her. She's the one destroying my life, I don't have to be nice to her.

"Well, I need to speak with Mr. Hartridge. Please follow me up to the house, Ponyboy."

I do as she says. She stays for another awkward hour, sitting on the couch in the living room and now and then sending me out to see if I can find my foster father. But every time I come back alone, I can see how Ms. West starts to get annoyed, and finally she tells me she will be back tomorrow, and that Mr. and Mrs. Hartridge must be here at the same time.

I stand looking through the window as she drives away, feeling something I can't explain in my stomach.

xXx

I tell the Hartridges about Ms. West and what she said about school, and that's when it starts to be awkward in the house, more than it has been before. They start to argue, and I stand by the door in my room as they shout at each other in the living room.

"I said I didn't want any trouble," Mrs. Hartridge says harshly, obviously not caring if I hear her or not. "That boy!"

"He ain't that much trouble," Mr. Hartridge defends me. "He works hard, he gets along with Andrew ..."

"You know I never wanted a kid. They only mean trouble; I told you that!"

"Tell that to your damn brother, then! He was the one who was on me about it, that it's only his son workin' his ass of out on the farm and that we -"

"Neil has nothing to do with this!"

"You know it was his idea."

"You are impossible!"

I turn around to lean my back against the door, closing my eyes and trying to tune out the yelling. But I'm not surprised to hear that Mrs. Hartridge never really wanted me here. It's not like she has ever said or done anything that made me think she likes me or something. I'm just wondering why I was even placed here in the first place, why Ms. West never noticed their reasons for taking me in. I sit down on the floor with my knees dragged up to my chest, suddenly drained. I don't know how I can know, but I'm just sure I will have to move again. I hide my face in my arms, while the harsh voices keep slipping inside the room. They don't stop for a long time.

xXx

"So you're leavin'?" Andrew asks hoarsely, suddenly turning up in the doorway to my room and making me startled. I guess Mr. James must have told him what happened yesterday, because I haven't. Ms. West came back as she said she would, and I don't know why but she decided to move me again after talking to my foster parents. I don't know what was said, because I wasn't allowed to be in the room. Not that I care. I don't.

I put the last of my belongings in my suitcase and close it, then I sit down on the bed, biting my lip as I look up at him.

"What happened?" he wants to know.

"Was it because of school?" he adds as I don't answer.

"She's kind of mad at me because of that," I mumble, rubbing my hands against my knees. "My social worker."

"Why didn't you just go there, then?" He folds his arms and leans against the frame. He looks pale and tired.

I'm just about to reply that it's not that easy to cross his dad, when Ms. West shows up behind him and gives him a sour smile before looking at me.

"Are you ready, Ponyboy?"

Mutely, I shake my head, and she frowns. "Five minutes. We have a long drive."

She leaves again, and Andrew follows her with his gaze before turning to me again.

"So where's she takin' you this time?"

I shrug weakly. "To a boys home, I guess."

"A boys home? Don't you think it's better here?"

He asks it as if I would have a choice.

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter, she doesn't care what I want anyway." I look down at my hands, not wanting to see his expression. The truth is I don't know what I want, other than to go home of course. Staying here with Andrew is okay, staying here with his dad is not, but going to the boys home makes me scared. I have a bad feeling about it, like always these days.

There is not much more to say. I don't know how to say good bye this time, and when Ms. West comes back and asks me again if I'm ready, I rise with a sigh and grab my bag.

"Yeah."

I won't miss this place, but I will miss Andrew. He's almost like a third brother to me, and when I walk past him, I can't help but put my bag down and hug him quickly. He returns it without hesitation.

"Take care, kid," he says and ruffles my hair, just like Soda uses to do and makes it even harder to leave.

"You too," I say, and then I swallow the lump in my throat and follow Ms. West out from the house.

My bag is placed in the trunk and myself in the backseat, and I turn my head, watching Andrew on the porch as Ms. West starts to drive down the road. It makes me think of that time she came and took me from Darry and Soda, how I bawled then, how devastated I was. This time, I'm just numb. There is no point in even trying anymore, I'm just a delinquent and a liar anyway, no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try. What I think or feel means nothing. I know that now. Maybe I should just stop thinking and feeling and be like Dally. I remember his words of getting tough and hard so no one can get you. Maybe I should try that. Then maybe life wouldn't hurt so much.

Ms. West hardly speaks to me the first few miles. Her jaw is tight and she stares straight forward out on the road, but suddenly she looks at me through the rear view mirror.

"I am very disappointed, Ponyboy," she says. "This is your chance for a normal life, and you refuse to take it. Do you know how close you are to be put in a boys home permanently? Is that what you want?"

I continue clamping my mouth shut, but my heart starts to beat fast. Am I not going to a boys home? I thought that was my only option. But I don't really dare to ask her, so I just turn my head and stare out the window, looking at the trees rushing by.

_Don't feel. Don't feel a thing and you can't get hurt._

* * *

_Thank you for reading and thank you so much for reviews! _

_I hope you don't mind the long chapters... this came out longer than planned.  
_


	14. Breaths

**On a Long Road**

**14. Breaths**

After about a two-hour long drive, Ms. West turns onto a street and parks on the driveway of a white, two-story house. I start to finger the hems of my jacket sleeves, staring fixedly down at them. It's not a boys home, I know, but it's not in Tulsa. I had hoped for Tulsa at least, but no, she just had to take me to Oklahoma City. That's even further away from home than before.

Ms. West takes out the key, unfasten's her seatbelt and climbs out of the car, but it's like I can't move. I don't know what awaits me inside that house, and I don't want to know either. I have no doubts that it will be bad, though. I have gone from worse to worse each time, why would this be an exception?

I jerk when Ms. West suddenly taps at the window next to me and tells me to hurry up. I guess any further delaying won't help my matters; she won't miraculously change her mind and drive me home just because I refuse to do as she says, so I sigh and open the door.

"Get your suitcase," she says a bit impatiently as I stretch my legs. She keeps looking at her wrist watch.

I go to the trunk to get it, and then I drag my feet in the gravel as I follow her up to the front door. She rings the bell and I think I'm going to throw up or something, right here on the porch. Up close, it's obvious this is a good neighborhood. Maybe not Socs standard, but close enough to make me feel really out of place. I don't want to live here.

"Hello and welcome."

I look up when hearing the soft, gentle voice, and I'm a bit surprised by the elderly, white-haired woman standing in the doorway, gesturing at us to come inside. She steps aside to let us pass, then closes the door behind my back and smiles at me, and I feel how I blush. I have met so many new people the past year, but I'm still not used to it and the way they look at me.

"Hello, Ms. West." It's a man about the woman's age, and he comes out in the hallway, holding a pair of glasses in his hand. Then he looks at me and smiles too. "You must be Ponyboy. Welcome. I'm Mr. Taylor."

"And I am Mrs. Taylor, dear, but you call us Maggie and Sam, okay?" the woman says, patting my arm once.

"Okay," I say quietly, taking a step away from her. I guess they seem nice, but I don't trust anyone.

I warily look around as we walk into the living room. Big windows are facing the yard, and the windowsills are full with pottery plants. There are couches and bookcases with a lot of books, and an open fireplace. On the mantelpiece stand three photographs; two of young men in uniforms, and a wedding photo. The young couple smiles brightly at me from the picture.

Someone touches my arm again, and I almost jerk. When I turn my head, it's Mrs. Taylor.

"Why don't you go and look around the house?" she says. "If you go up the stairs, the third room to the right will be yours."

I nod and take my suitcase, sure that they are only getting rid of me to talk. I don't care about sightseeing - instead, I walk up the stairs and go to the room she was talking about. It's big, with a bed, a desk and a bookcase, but I don't stay to look closer at it; I just put the suitcase down on the floor and then sneak back down the stairs, moving slowly to stand just outside the doorway to the living room, holding my breath as I try to listen. I hear Ms. West and Mrs. Taylor, talking about me.

"... and school of course," Ms. West says. "Here is a letter from the principal in Muskogee to his new school. He should attend as soon as possible. It's important to make sure he goes to his classes."

"I understand."

"He is a nice boy, but he needs a lot of guidance. I hope there won't be too much trouble for you."

"Oh, we're used to young boys."

"Well, in any case, just call us if there is any trouble at all."

There is a soft noise behind me, feet shuffling against the carpet, and I jerk again and turn around, just to notice Mr. Taylor standing behind me. I look down, embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping, and a little scared at what he will do to me, but he only laughs and gestures at me to come.

I follow him into the living room again, and stuff my hands down into my pockets. I finger my lighter, wondering what these people think about smoking, because I really, really need a cigarette right now.

Ms. West seems to be done with the delivery. She declines coffee when Mr. Taylor offers her a cup, and starts to gather her papers again, looking up at me from her place on the couch.

"Behave now, Ponyboy," she says lightly, but I hear the threat underneath. I just press my lips together, refusing to answer.

xXx

They pretty much leave me alone the first day. After Ms. West has left, Mr. Taylor sits on the armchair in the living room, listening to the radio. Mrs. Taylor seems to be doing something in the kitchen; I hear the sound of running water and cupboards opening and closing. Not knowing what else to do, I stand by the bookcase, reading the titles on the spines to see what books they have, while glancing now and then at Mr. Taylor. If he is like Mr. James, or even Mr. Collins, I think he's too old to beat me. He must be in his sixties, at least. Maybe even older than that. If he tries something, I might be able to do something back.

Absent-mindedly I pick out a book and then put it back, just to pick out another one. It's _The Catcher in the Rye_, and I start to flip through it. Someone has written a name in the upper corner on the first page. _John Taylor_. I guess it must be their son, or something. I weigh the book in my hand, wondering if I can borrow it, but I don't want to ask. Mr. Taylor seems very distracted by the radio program, and after paying attention for a while, I realize it's about the Vietnam war. I haven't really cared about the war before, there have been so many other things going on in my life, but suddenly I remember that there's not even a week left until Soda's eighteenth birthday. My stomach makes a turn when I start thinking of the draft. What if his number comes up?

I feel cold and almost nauseous. If Soda goes to war, I don't know what I'll do. I wouldn't be able to stand it! I swallow and shake my head slowly. That just can't happen. If they send him over there, then I will have nothing left.

I sit down on the floor right where I stand. I don't want to think about that, I have to try to think about something else. Soda won't go anywhere; it's me who is away from home, not him. Soda has to stay in Tulsa. I open the book in an attempt to force the thoughts away, forcing myself to concentrate on the words, on Holden's life instead of mine. It doesn't help - I'm too distracted to get lost in the story.

I struggle through the first chapter, and then I look up for a moment, finding Mr. Taylor watching me. He has turned off the radio by now.

"Don't you think the couch is more comfortable than the floor?" he says. He holds a pipe in his hand, puffing at it. I wish I had my own smokes. I think I have two sticks left, upstairs in my bag.

"Why don't you come over here and sit down?" Mr. Taylor suggests.

Without a word I get to my feet and shuffle toward him. I sit down on the edge of the couch, fidget a bit with my hands. My body has a craving for nicotine.

"Tell me a little about yourself."

I frown at that. I thought Ms. West already had told them everything, but maybe he's just trying to be friendly.

"What do you want to know?" I wonder quietly.

"I just want to know you a bit better. You will be living with us now, like a son, I hope."

I frown and clench my hands into fists. "I already have parents," I mutter. "Just 'cause they're dead doesn't mean I want new ones."

"I didn't mean it like that."

I glare at him. "I ain't stayin' anyway. I'm goin' back to my brothers soon."

I don't know what I'm trying to do. I know this is stupid of me - I remember belts and fists - but I'm just so tired. I need to be angry. I want to scream and trash things. I know it won't change anything, but this is killing me, to be sad all the time. Anger is better.

"I understand that your oldest brother had the custody before?" Mr. Taylor says, obviously unaware of my internal thoughts.

"He'll have it back," I snap. "It's just a matter of time."

To my surprise, he only smiles at that. "I guess that's good news, then."

Taken a bit aback, I eye him suspiciously. I don't think he believes that, he's just a liar. Like the rest of them.

"Yeah," I say anyway.

He carefully puts the pipe down on the coffee table. "Are you close?"

"What?"

"Your brothers and you. Are you close?"

I want to start bawling right there and then. I feel tears welling up, but I blink and turn my head down so he won't see. Close is not even the word for it. I put my hands between my knees and breathe in, hoping he doesn't notice my struggle to keep me from crying.

"They're my family," I finally manage to croak out, and I know I have revealed myself. But Mr. Taylor doesn't say anything about it, not even as I wipe my cheek with my hand.

"Family is important," he just says. "Maybe you want to call them?"

I sit up straighter, looking at him, wide-eyed all sudden. "You'll let me call them?"

"Of course. Go up the stairs, and the room next to yours is my old office. You can talk in private in there."

I stare at him for a moment more, but then I rise and bolt away. I won't let this opportunity go. I find the room and step inside, closing the door behind me. I wipe my face with my sleeve again, and swallow a lot of times. I have to try to calm down before calling; I don't want Soda to know how sad I am, even though I guess he can already tell. He's sad too.

Since it's a weekday, and the middle of the day, I guess they're not at home, so when I feel that I'm able to talk normally, I lift the receiver and punch in the number to the DX. I must be lucky somehow because Soda is the one who picks up this time.

"_I thought you wouldn't call until tonight_," he says happily when he hears that it's me. Then I remember that they don't know. Ms. West never tells them anything.

I sink down in the chair behind the desk. "Don't get mad," I mumble. "But they, um ... they kind of moved me again."

He's quiet for a while, then he bursts, "_They did what?_"

"I ain't at the farm anymore."

He lets out a string of curses. I put my elbow down on the table and lean my head in my hand, while pressing the phone closer to my ear with the other.

"It's all right, Soda," I say. "I don't mind it."

"_You don't mind it? You don't mind that they treat you worse than some fuckin' dog?_" His first mood seems to be all gone. "_This is ridiculous._"

"Yeah, but it's better here," I hurry to say. "They seem really nice."

"_They? Who are they?_"

"The ones I'm stayin' with."

He sighs. I can picture him, standing leaning against the wall behind the counter, closing his eyes. Thinner than he was a year ago. More tired. Like me.

"_I don't know how to handle all this, Pony. It feels like I never know where you are. It scares me. I just want to know where you are, all the time._"

I have to blink away tears again. He sounds so helpless.

"_Just tell me where you are and if you're fine, okay?_" he pleads. "_Kiddo? Just please tell me you're okay._"

"I'm okay, Soda, promise. I'm in Oklahoma city now," I say. "They're an older couple and I think they're nice."

"_You just _think _they're nice?_"

"I just got here. They're nice, don't worry."

"_What happened at the farm? I swear, Ponyboy, you gotta tell me the truth._"

I curl the cord around my hand. The truth. I don't even know what the truth is. Whatever I say it will sound bad, and it wasn't that bad, not as bad as I know Darry and Soda will believe it was if I say anything about it at all. I can't tell them I lied before, but that wasn't the reason anyway. Mr. James wasn't the reason.

"Nothin' I guess," I finally decide to say. "They just ... they just didn't want a kid around anymore."

"_What, so they can just decide somethin' like that_?"

"But it's better here," I say again, trying to change the subject. "It's a really nice house. It's quite big and -"

"_I have to talk to Darry,_" Soda blurts, still very upset. "_They just can't go on doin' things like this. I can't believe it, they should just send you home inst -_"

I close my eyes, interrupting him. "Soda, you okay?"

"_What? Yeah_, _I'm okay, but -_"

"How's your hand?"

"_A lot better, I've done my exercises. Pony, don't worry about me. Just tell me what's happening, I want to know everything, okay?_"

I tell him the little I know. Soda stays on the phone with me as long as he can, and when we have to hang up, I have promised to call again as soon as possible and to give them the address.

xXx

At dinner time, I can only pick at my food. I don't know why I feel so awful. What I said to Soda seems to be true; the differences between here and at the Hartridges' place are big, but I can't let myself relax. I won't let anyone trick me, and I'm still angry. Mr. and Mrs. Taylor speak softly to each other, and now and then they smile at me, or ask me if I want more to eat, even though I have hardly touched anything on my plate. But mostly, they just give me space. I'm thankful for that. I know I would probably snap if they didn't, and I don't think they deserve that. This is not their fault.

Afterwards I sneak up to the room they say is mine, and I sit in the windowsill, smoking my last cigarette as I read the book from earlier. But even though I like it, I find myself reading the same sentence over and over, and finally I toss it away, seeing how it lands on the carpet with a soft thump. I never treat books like that. And I've never put my cigarettes out against the wooden frame around a window either, but I do that now too. I want to destroy something, I don't know what, just something. I can't do it. I dig my nails so hard into the palms of my hands it feels I'm going to draw blood, and then I throw myself down on the bed, bury my face into the pillow and scream weakly. I don't know how to let it out.

I curl my arms around my head and scream again, and then I just start sobbing. I didn't even know I was close to crying.

xXx

Mr. and Mrs. Taylor don't seem to have any jobs; I guess they are both too old for that. So the next day, we're all just in the house together. I won't start school until Monday, and I sneak around in their house like a shadow, trying to avoid them as much as I can. I need more cigarettes. Darry has kept giving me some money every time I've met up with them, and I have a few dollars, but I don't know where to find a store. I don't want to ask either, so I just suffer through withdrawal and try not to snap.

The day passes slowly. All I do is try to stop thinking and make myself occupied with other things instead. I open doors and peek inside the rooms on the top floor, when I know both Mr. and Mrs. Taylor are downstairs, but there isn't much to find. I unpack and put my stuff in the drawer. I try to read. I try to eat.

I call home again in the evening, giving Darry and Soda my new address and phone number. Soda wants do drive here right away, and I don't know how Darry manages to stop him. I wish he hadn't, though, but I guess it won't really work with him just showing up. Instead we decide they will come down on Sunday, Soda's birthday. There's only three days left.

When we have hung up, I go down the stairs and stop just outside the living room. Mr. Taylor is listening to the radio again, smoking his pipe, and Mrs. Taylor sits in the couch, seemingly to be knitting something. She looks up and when she spots me, she's giving me a bright smile.

"Why don't you come in and sit down for a while, Ponyboy? Maybe you want to watch some TV?"

I shake my head; I don't want to watch TV. Hesitantly I take a step inside, leaning my back against the wall, close to the open doorway. I stuff my hands down into my pockets to not show how they're shaking.

"My brothers will come down Sunday," I say quietly.

"To visit?" Mrs. Taylor asks and looks at her husband. She looks a little worried.

I shift my feet. "Can they come?"

Mr. Taylor takes the pipe out of his mouth and leans forward a bit.

"I don't know," he says. "Maybe we better talk to Ms. West before we decide anything."

"Why?" I mutter. "They use to visit me."

"Well, we have to make sure."

"Make sure of what?"

"That it's a good idea for you to meet your brothers."

I can only stare at them.

"I promise to call Ms. West the first thing tomorrow," Mr. Taylor says, reassuringly. "I'll let you know at breakfast."

I take my hands out of the pockets to cross my arms in front of my chest.

"I _know _it's okay. She already knows I'm seeing them."

"Then it won't be a problem when we ask tomorrow either," Mrs. Taylor says definitely, her tone leaving no room for arguments. In a way, she sounds like Mom did sometimes.

I open my mouth and close it, feeling hurt. I thought this place might be okay, but they appear to be just like the rest of them. Without a word I turn around and rush down the hall and up the stairs again, slamming the door shut after me. I stride the floor before throwing myself down on the carpet. I just want to scream. I'm sure they are liars; they won't allow Darry and Soda to come, and even if they do, what about Two-Bit and Steve? I bite down so hard my jaw hurts; I drag my fingers through my hair and pull - it will soon be a year and I'm still not home. I'm never going home. I'm forced to stay here, with people I don't know, who watch every step I take, who refuse me what I need most.

It's hard to breathe. I want to go home, I just want to go home ...

Sucking in, I get no air. There's no air in the room. There's no air and I need it, and my heart is speeding so fast. I put my hand over it, feeling how it beats against my palm. It must be a heart attack. I'm going to die. I know I'm going to die, and Soda isn't here, and Darry... I want them to come. I just want them to come!

I panic. I try to sit up straighter, but the room is spinning. I think I hear a door open but it's hard to tell.

"Take it easy, come on. Just breathe. That's fine, boy, just breathe."

Someone is in the room with me. It's not Soda; I can tell by the hands suddenly touching me, one on my shoulder, the other one on my back, rubbing circles. They are bigger, moves differently, are not as soothing as his. My vision is a blur, and I'm scared. I don't know what's happening, why I can't -

"You have asthma? Ponyboy?"

I think the voice belongs to the man. Mr. Taylor. He removes his hand from my shoulder and I slump forward. He quickly puts an arm around me to steady me again, and I breathe in.

"That's right, take a deep breath. There you go."

I gulp in air, and soon it's getting easier. After what feels like forever, my heart seems to slow down to a normal pace, but when the room stops spinning, I feel that I'm drenched in sweat.

"Are you okay now?"

I swallow once and then manage to nod. I put my hands down on the floor and drag myself away a bit, out from his grip, and he lets go of me. He's looking at me, and I drag my legs up to my chest and wipe my cheeks against my knees. I'm shaking badly.

"You have some medicine you need to take? Ms. West never mentioned -"

"It ain't asthma," I manage to whisper. He looks doubtful, though.

"Maybe we should take you to the doctor tomorrow."

I shake my head, tiredly. That's not what I need. I wish he could leave me alone. Just go. I hate breaking down in front of strangers.

"Just to make sure."

"I'm okay," I mumble. I hide my face in my arms, hoping that sign is enough for him to understand, to get up and leave, but of course, he doesn't.

"I don't think you are."

I breathe in and out.

"Ponyboy?"

"What?" I mutter, still hidden.

"Maybe you should go to bed. Get some sleep."

I sniff and then I look up, wiping my face again. "Yeah. Okay."

I think I agree mostly to get rid of him, but when he helps me stand up, I feel how exhausted I am. He walks with me to the bathroom and I lock the door behind me. Standing by the sink, I splash cold water in my face, wondering what just happened. I hope it won't happen again, because it was kind of scary.

I stay in the bathroom a bit longer than I really need, and when I go out again, Mr. Taylor is still standing there. I look away, a bit embarrassed. I feel like a mess.

"Do you need anything else tonight?" Mr. Taylor asks me. I shake my head, and he pats my shoulder. "Well, good night, then."

I mumble an answer, and then I sneak past him and into the room they gave me, closing the door carefully this time.

* * *

_Thank you for reading and all reviews! Thank you so much!  
_


	15. Headache

**On a Long Road**

**15. Headache  
**

I can't sleep. No matter how tired I am, I just can't relax enough. I'm not used to this room, this mattress, this blanket, this pillow ... everything is just wrong. I toss and turn for a long time before I give up, and then I sit up and rub my temples.

I know this feeling. I have had headaches enough times to know when one will come, and I slide out of bed and pad over the floor before it gets worse. The house is completely dark as I make my way to the bathroom as quietly as I can, and I close the door behind me before turning on the lights. I have to blink a couple of times to get used to the sudden brightness.

I open the cupboard over the sink. The shelves are filled with bathroom things; shampoos and soaps, razors, toothbrushes and detergents, but that is not what I'm looking for. I move some of them to the side, finding the medicine bottles in the corner. I pick them out one by one and read on the labels; vitamines, valium, chlorothiazide ... I finally find a bottle of aspirin and put the others back in place.

I take four pills, my usual amount, swallowing them with water from the tap, and then I sit down on the closed toilet lid. I don't know why I don't just go back to bed, but somehow it's worse just lying there, than sitting here.

I stare at my hands. Now and then they shake a bit, and I close them hard, to stop them. I know it's the lack of cigarettes. I really need to smoke.

xXx

Close to the morning I crawl back into bed, burying myself into the blankets. I miss Soda the most in moments like this, when I wish he was beside me when I fall asleep and wake up. I know I'm probably too old now to have my brother in the same bed, but I think that if ... _when _I get home, I won't care. I will do anything to make up for this missed year. He wouldn't mind, I'm sure.

I think of him and Darry as I drift off, feeling how my eyelids get heavier and harder to keep open, and suddenly I'm walking on our street and trying to find our house, but it's not there. I see our neighbors houses, but every time I walk past them, I just end up somewhere else. I go back and forth, but our home is completely gone. A feeling of panic starts to spread, because if I can't find our house, Soda and Darry will be gone, too. I search and search, but everything just isn't where it should be.

My heart beats so hard when I wake up, and I sit up fast, trying to calm down by telling myself that it was just a dream.

xXx

I take a shower and dress myself before going down to breakfast. I don't feel good - I'm so tired, and my head hurts something awful. Mr. and Mrs. Taylor are both in the kitchen when I come down and, as usual, there's a lot of food on the table. I almost feel nauseous seeing it.

"Good morning Ponyboy," Mrs. Taylor smiles. "Please, sit down and eat."

I take my seat, putting my elbow on the table and leaning my head in my hand. Mrs. Taylor pours me a glass of orange juice, then asks me what I want for breakfast, but I just shrug. I don't think I can eat at all. She looks at Mr. Taylor, but then she turns back to me, takes my plate without asking again, and fills it with eggs and bacon. That's what I had yesterday, too.

"There you go." She places the plate in front of me.

They both sit down with their coffee, but no one of them tells me if they called Ms. West this morning or not. Maybe they haven't had the time yet - a glance at the clock on the wall tells me it's still pretty early. I sigh inwards and then lift up my fork, scooping up some egg. It feels like it grows in my mouth as I try to chew it down. I push the plate away when I start to feel nauseous for real.

"Are you feeling all right?" Mr. Taylor asks me suddenly.

I nod, but I feel light-headed.

"What's the matter?"

"It's just a headache," I mutter, but I can almost see stars now. I move my hand to my mouth, and then I rush up. I just manage to get to the bathroom in time, before I throw up in the toilet. I don't get up much since my stomach is all empty, and afterwards, I sit on the floor, feeling cold and warm at the same time. I wipe my mouth with my shirt sleeve, feeling too weak to stand up and go over to the sink.

There is a soft knock, and Mrs. Taylor shows up at the door. She says something, but I can't figure out what, and then she helps me to rise and walk up the stairs to my bed. I turn to face the wall, all the time keeping my eyes closed. I feel her hand against my forehead for a short moment before it disappears. I just want to sleep.

I have to sit up, though, when she comes back with more aspirins and a glass of water. I swallow the pills and lie down again.

I wake up some time later when someone sits down on my bedside. At first, I think I'm home and that it's Soda. I feel confused when I open my eyes and see an unfamiliar man.

"Hello, Ponyboy, I'm Dr. Anderson. I'm Taylor's family doctor, and they called me to come and see you. They told me you aren't feeling so well."

"I'm fine," I mumble, mostly out of habit because I'm not fine, and I think it's quite obvious, too. He chuckles softly and helps me to sit up, and then he checks me all over; my temperature, my blood pressure, my neck and throat, my heart and lungs. I have to take deep breaths as he listens with his stethoscope.

"I heard you got some trouble breathing yesterday," he says when he's done. "Has that happened before?"

I shrug. "I don't think so."

"Have you had pneumonia sometime? Asthma attacks?"

"No."

"Do you smoke?"

I nod.

"How much?"

"Um, I don't know. Five or six sticks a day, maybe."

"You know that's not very good for your health, right?" he asks a bit concerned.

"Yeah," I say quietly.

"Okay. I guess there is no point asking you to stop, right?"

I don't answer that, and he smiles a little.

"How do you feel now? Any pain?"

"Just a headache."

"No chest pain?"

"No."

"Nothing else?"

"No."

"Okay, that's good. When was the last time you went to see a doctor?"

I bite my lip. It was after Johnny and Dally ... no. It was that time at the boys home. I tell him and he nods.

"Okay. Your vitals seem normal today, and you're not running a fever. Maybe the aspirins helped to get it down, so I want you to check it again in a couple of hours or if you start to feel warm. And if you get another attack like yesterday, I want you to tell Mr. or Mrs. Taylor, so they can call me. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good." He seems to take a closer look at my face, and I try not to blush. "Hm, do you sleep well?"

Hesitantly, I shake my head.

"That could explain the headache. Just make sure not to take too many aspirins at one time, and rest if you need to. Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"No."

"Good." He starts to collect his things and put them back into his bag. Then he looks at me a bit curiously. "How long have you been in foster care?"

"Um, about a year now."

"A year? And you came here two days ago? Where did you stay before?"

"You want to know about all of them?"

"All of them? How many placements have you had?"

"Um. Four. But two of them were just for a couple of weeks." I don't really count Mrs. Harvey, that was just for one night anyway.

He raises his eyebrows, looking a bit surprised. "Four places in such a short time?"

I don't really agree with him that it has been a short time. A year is a very long time, in my eyes. But I don't say anything, what's the point in that? Instead I just look down, as he starts to say something about stress and bodily reactions to certain situations. I don't really listen. When he's done, he pats my shoulder and tells me to take care, and then he picks up his bag and leaves.

xXx

Mrs. Taylor fusses over me the whole of Friday, even though I feel better in the afternoon. I finally dare to ask them about Darry and Soda, and they say that they're welcome here, and I feel so relieved. I almost can't wait until Sunday.

The next day, I accidentally let slip that it's Soda's birthday tomorrow, and Mrs. Taylor seems thrilled about it. Before I know it, I find myself baking a cake with her. I have seen Soda baking chocolate cake about hundred times or more, and when I tell Mrs. Taylor about it, she wonders what we did with all the cakes.

"They were for breakfast," I say, while she puts the bowl in my lap and tells me to whip the batter.

She raises her eyebrows. "Cake for breakfast?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I have to try that. Sam would love it, I'm sure."

I smile faintly.

"You can put almost two cups of flour in the batter now."

"Okay."

"How much cocoa powder do you want in it?"

"Um, Soda loves chocolate," I tell her as I start to put in the other ingredients.

She laughs. "I thought so."

I don't know why, but I start to tell her about Soda's crazy food, how everything has different colors and how he put things together that shouldn't taste good, but often does anyway, and she's not some boring old lady, because she laughs even more and says he seems to be an interesting person.

"He is," I say. Then I bite my lip and stare down into the bowl until Mrs. Taylor takes it from me and starts to pour the batter down into a round baking tin.

I have trouble sleeping the next night too, but this time it's mostly because of excitement. Even though it was only a week since I last saw them, it feels like even longer. Maybe it's because of everything that has happened, with me moving again and all. There is another reason for my happiness, I realize. This time I won't really have anything to hide. It will be the first time I can introduce them to the family I'm staying at, and not be worried they will notice that something is not right. The Smiths weren't bad, but I stayed there for such a short time so it won't really count. Then there was the Collins, who never seemed to like me meeting my brothers so we had to do it during lunch break, and then Mr. James ... I don't even want to think about him.

I do fall asleep eventually, and if I dream, I don't remember it. I get up early, though, because I don't know what time they will come. They just said they would drive over right after breakfast. Darry-time, it could be around seven, but with Two-Bit, you can never know. I just hope they drag him out of bed and dump him in the car no matter how much he complains about it being too early.

I eat my food fast that morning, and then I'm out on the porch, eagerly staring at every car that drives by. I guess they will take Steve's car and not our truck, so I keep looking for that one. Again, I wish I had more cigarettes - I can't believe I haven't smoked since Thursday. The withdrawal is pretty bad sometimes, and I curse myself for forgetting to tell them to bring me a pack.

Just before ten o'clock, they drive up and park. I rush down to meet them, as always, and Soda sweeps me up in a big hug before the others are even out of the car yet.

"Glory, Pone," he says as he eyes the house suspiciously, letting go of me again. "Are they Socs?"

"No," I say at the same time Two-Bit whistles. I suddenly feel a bit embarrassed, I don't know why. I guess I just don't want them to think I like it here. I mean, I do in a way. It's better here than it has been at the other places, and I can relax and everything but - it's still not home. And I hate that I like it. Because I don't _like_ it. I can't even explain it to myself.

"I want to meet them," Darry says firmly after hugging me. He's happy to see me, I know, but his expression is nothing but serious.

"You got any cigarettes?" I ask, because I can't wait anymore. Two-Bit gives me his pack, and after I have taken a stick, I don't give it back; just stuff it in my pocket. Either he doesn't care or he doesn't notice, because he doesn't say anything about it, just walking closer to the house, peering up at it.

"You okay, Pony?" Soda asks.

"I told you I am." I try to sound reassuring, but he looks at me like he doesn't really believe me. Then I remember; I can't believe I could forget so quickly. "Happy birthday, Soda."

"Yeah," he says and tries to give me a little smile. "Eighteen, huh. Kinda hard to believe, right?"

I nod, wishing it was me. Today is the day Darry's not his guardian anymore; when he's allowed to take care of himself; when the state can't come and snatch him away like they did with me. He's safe now. And if he would have been here with me, he would have gone home today. My stomach aches all sudden, and I drag on my cigarette and turn around, not wanting him to see any of my thoughts in my expression. I'm sure he can tell anyway, but he doesn't say anything.

When I have finished my cigarette, we go inside.

xXx

My new foster parents really open their arms to my brothers and friends. I didn't think it would go badly, but I'm surprised at how well they all seem to like each other. And I'm surprised by my own feelings - I feel how annoyance starts to boil in me, and I find myself sitting all quiet next to Soda on the couch, while Two-Bit tells one of his random stories that might be true but probably isn't. The others make remarks now and then, but my mind is all floating and I don't really listen. I cross my arms instead, hating the way Darry throws relieved glances between me and Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, how much he seems to appreciate them and their house. What if he starts to think that this is better? Maybe he stops saving money because he thinks that I'm finally in a good place, maybe he doesn't even want me back anymore? His responsibilities ended today, all of them. He's free now, he can do whatever he wants. Go back to school. Anything.

He talks to Mr. Taylor, and they both smile and nod and seem to be all buddies. Everyone just talks and talks and I rub my forehead, but unfortunately, Soda sees it and frowns.

"Pony?"

"I need some air." I bolt up from the couch and leave the living room without looking back, and I try not to slam the front door, but I think I did anyway. On the porch, I dig up Two-Bit's pack and take out a stick, and my hands are shaking badly. I fail with the lighter twice.

"C'mon," I mumble, when a hand suddenly takes it from me, and I jerk, moving a step backwards, glaring at Soda.

"Pony?" he says, sounding really concerned. "What's wrong?"

I take the cigarette out from my mouth, looking away. "Nothin'."

"Hey, talk to me. Don't clamp your mouth on me, kiddo." He steps forward and grabs my arm, forcing me to turn to him.

"Why don't you just go inside again, Soda?"

"Why would I? I came here to see you."

I don't answer, I just try to turn away again, but he grabs me harder before I can do it.

"Pony, c'mon ..."

"What?" I snap. Then I say, "You know, you don't seem to have any problem with me being here anymore. I guess you all are happy now."

He looks almost shocked. "What are you talkin' about?"

I feel tears rise in my eyes, but I manage to hold them back. "You all just laugh and tell jokes. You think I'm better off here."

"No -"

"You do! I bet you don't even want me to come home anymore!" I jerk my arm out from his grip and hastily take a few steps away, but he follows me.

"That ain't true," he says, sounding desperate, getting all pale. "Shit, Ponyboy, listen to me!"

"I don't wanna listen to you!"

"No, you better listen! Why would you even think somethin' like that?"

"I don't know!"

He puts his hand on my arm again, but I shrug it off and moves even further away.

"It doesn't matter anyway," I ramble on. "If you bring this to court you'll lose anyway."

The porch ends and I have to stop by the railing. I glance at him, dare to meet his eyes to see his reaction. I have never seen his eyes look like that before, and the remorse hits me hard. He looks like he's about to cry.

"Pony ..." he pleads weakly, then clears his throat and try again, manages to sound firmer this time. He's really trying. "Pony, don't you ever think we will give up on this. It ain't gonna happen!"

There is a buzz in my head, and my vision gets smaller, like I see him through a tunnel.

"Maybe you should," I tell him, but it's like it's someone else saying it. My heart beats so hard.

"Please don't be like this. You're making me worried about you, kiddo..." He moves again, and this time manages to come close enough to put his arm over my shoulders and drag me close. I want to scream at him or push him away, but I don't - I just surrender completely, sinking into his embrace and let him hold me. He keeps talking to me, with his cheek leaned against my hair, and I know that my thoughts are stupid and silly and everything, of course they won't give up. I know he would take me home if he could, but he can't. I feel so selfish all sudden - this is his birthday, he shouldn't have to deal with me and my turmoil.

"You said it would just be a week," I can't help but mumble into his shirt, and even though I regret the words immediately, I really needed to say them.

"I know." His voice almost cracks, and I hate that I am the one making him sad.

"I'm sorry," I slip out.

"Don't say that!" He holds me back, so that he can look me in my eyes. "Don't say that," he repeats, calmer, but still very strained.

"But -"

"No. It ain't your fault."

"You can't say that it wasn't," I protest, but Soda just shakes his head and drags a hand over his mouth.

"Shit, Pony."

I sniff. "I need to smoke," I mumble.

We both move to sit down on the bench standing by the house wall on the porch. I'm still holding my cigarette, and as I put it back into my mouth, Soda lights it for me.

"Got one for me?" he asks, and I pick up the pack and give it to him. He lights up and take a couple of long drags.

"Darry has a meeting next week," he says quietly after dropping his hand down again. "With Mr. Parker. You know, now that I'm eighteen, maybe ... since Darry's not my guardian anymore, maybe that can change things."

I stare at him. "You mean you can be my guardian?"

He makes a little grimace. "I doubt that. If they won't let Darry, they sure wouldn't let me. I'm just a drop out, remember? But maybe his chances will get better now, who knows? I mean, he doesn't have to care for me anymore."

I shudder. It's a bit cold outside and I didn't take my jacket.

"Who's Mr. Parker?" I ask.

"You know, the lawyer."

"You really think he can help us?"

"If he can't, we'll find someone else."

I nod, and then we sit quiet for a while and just smoke. We put the embers out against the soles of our shoes, and then I put the butts back in the pack, not wanting to just throw them on the floor.

"Pony, you don't think like you just did anymore, do you?" Soda says as we start to move back inside again. "That we just would let you stay here? 'Cause that ain't gonna happen, I promise."

I sigh. "I know. I'm just stupid sometimes."

He ruffles my hair and manages to smile. "You ain't stupid, kiddo."

The rest of the day I try to enjoy the fact that my brothers and friends are here. Even though I only get to see them once a week, it's obvious how much I miss not being home. When we speak on the phone they mostly just want to know what's going on with my life and it's the same when we meet. When I ask them what they do, they just say that they mostly work. I know both of them put in extra shifts, and I don't think it's only about the money. I have a feeling they stay away from home as much as they can because of me, too. My absence.

Mrs. Taylor and I put candles in Soda's cake, and then we sing for him before we eat it. Soda says it's the best cake he has ever had, but I think he's lying. I know that he probably would have wanted more sugar in it.

Mrs. Taylor asks Darry if they want any dinner later, but Soda nudges his side, shaking his head almost unnoticeable, and Darry clears his throat.

"I was thinking that we could take Pony out for a ride," he says, giving me this look. He knows I need to get away, if only for a short moment, and I drop my spoon and feel so relieved when Mrs. Taylor allows me to go with them.

Soda gets to pick what we will do, and he choses to go out and eat and then go to the movies. Steve raises his eyebrows at that, because we all know what Soda thinks of sitting still for so long, but no one says anything. We all know he chose it for me. I get all quiet because I haven't seen a movie since that day with Johnny and Dally, and this is just strangely overwhelming all of a sudden. Little things that just blow me away.

When Steve has parked the car and we have all gotten out from it, Soda sticks close to me, draping his arm over my shoulders again.

"Thanks, Soda," I say quietly to him, and he gives me that sad smile I have started to hate. I just wish for him to be happy. I wish we could all be happy.

* * *

_Thank you so much for the support to this story! You don't know how happy it makes me. I hope you all like this chapter as well.  
_

_I just have one more thing to say, as one of my reviewers pointed out about foster homes. For many kids, foster homes are great. Hopefully for most of the kids that need a new family or just a place to stay. But even systems with good intentions can unfortunately fail. When I did my research for this story, I only searched for the bad experiences, not the good ones. I think you all already know this; and I mostly just wanted to say that I'm not against foster care when it's needed.  
_


	16. Losses

**On a Long Road**

**16. Losses**

The principal studies me over his glasses, making me squirm in my seat. I don't like it when people are looking at me like that. Breaking the eye-contact, I steal a glance to my left to look out through the window instead.

"So, Ponyboy Curtis," Mr. Watkins finally says, and unwillingly I turn my gaze back to him. "I must admit I'm thinking about placing you in freshman year again. Your grades are not very satisfying."

I look down at my hands, but in the corner of my eye, I see Mr. Taylor lean forward slightly.

"He's a very smart boy," he says. "He'll catch up with the others in no time if you just give him a chance."

Mr. Watkins mutters something inaudible, and then the silence is back as he picks up the papers in front of him again; my report cards and the letter from my old school in Muskogee. A clock ticks annoyingly on the wall while we wait for him to finish reading, and I resist an urge to sigh. I press my hand down hard on my leg to keep it from bouncing nervously.

"Well, considering the circumstances ..." Mr. Watkins trails off, looking at me again. It almost feels like I'm in some kind of trial, and I guess I am, in a way. If he decides to put me back a year, there is nothing I can do about it. It probably wouldn't be that bad since I would then be the same age as my peers, but I already feel like a failure. I keep thinking of what Darry would say if he knew about this.

"My wife and I are both home during the days. We can make sure he does his homework," Mr. Taylor says.

Mr. Watkins frowns a bit, and bores his eyes into mine.

"Are you going to attend all your classes? I will not tolerate any unauthorized absence in this school."

I manage to not shudder. "Um. Yeah. Yes. I won't ditch."

He looks as he doesn't believe me, but then he mutters again and shakes his head.

"Well, then ... sophomore year it is. I hope this is not a mistake."

"I can assure you that it's not," Mr. Taylor says, a bit strained. He doesn't seem to like Mr. Watkins that much.

I get a schedule and a locker number and the combination to it, and then we can finally leave the office. I was thankful for having Mr. Taylor with me in there, but now more students have shown up in the hallway, and they look at us a bit funny. I don't want to stick out more than I already do as the new kid.

"I can manage myself now," I say, taking a step away from Mr. Taylor.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." He pats my shoulder, giving me a little smile. "Good luck today. I'll see you at home later."

He starts walking toward the front doors, and I take a deep breath before turning around and going in the opposite direction. I find my locker pretty quickly, and I leave my jacket in there, but I bring my backpack with me. Since it's my first day, I will probably get a lot of books to carry.

There's still about fifteen minutes left before the first class starts, and I use that time to go looking for my home room. I find that quickly too, but instead of going inside and taking a seat, I lean myself against the wall outside the door, waiting for the bell to ring. I don't know if they have assigned seats or not, and I don't want to accidentally take someone elses spot.

Close to eight o'clock, students start to fill the classroom, most of them ignoring me, but some of them throw curious glances at me. I really hate this, being the new kid who people stare at.

When I think I might be the last one not taking a seat, I go into the classroom too. There are only a few empty desks left and I chose the one closest to the back, trying to ignore the even more intensive looks I get. I'm glad when the teacher steps inside and closes the door, since they all turn forward again, forgetting about me. Unfortunately that doesn't last very long, as the teacher searches the room with her gaze, and smiles when she finds me.

"We have a new student," she says. "Ponyboy Curtis, welcome to our school."

I feel my ears go red and try to shrink down a bit when I hear the usual snickers about my name. It's always like this.

The day goes slowly. I get to all my classes on time, sit in the back and don't even try to talk to anyone. In History, though, we have a group project, and the teacher places me in a group with three other boys. I can't say that they are unfriendly, because they are not, but they only talk to me when necessary. That's fine by me.

At lunch, I already have a big pile of work I have to do to catch up with the others. I'm not sure I will be able to do that at all. Maybe it would have been better starting over in freshman year, but I don't want to disappoint anyone. I guess I just have to try to do my best.

I never go to the cafeteria during lunch, and not in this school either. I sneak out to smoke instead, like always. I have a whole new pack Two-Bit lifted for me yesterday - adding to that pack I kind of stole from him - and not even Darry said anything about it. I just hope he never will stop acting as my guardian, even if he's not. It's weird, because I remember how it used to bug me, how he was trying to raise me and how he hollered and stuff, but now I miss it. Even the times when he hollered at me. He hasn't done that for a very long time now.

I open the front door, only to notice that the rain is pouring down. I sigh and step outside anyway, hoping to find someplace with a roof over. There are some trees in the school yard, but they don't give much shelter, so finally I walk over to the bus stop on the street.

I read the time-tables as I smoke, playing with the thought of just getting on a bus and seeing where it would take me. Then I would be able to decide over my own life for once; I'm so tired of others making the decisions for me, and the fact that my opinions never count. I could just get away from here, disappearing somewhere. Sometimes it feels like that is all I want to do; just disappear.

xXx

I walk home in the afternoon. The Taylor's live pretty close to school, so it would just be ridiculous if Mr. Taylor had to pick me up every day. Besides, it has stopped raining, and I like to walk.

There is a boy and a girl ahead of me on the sidewalk, and the boy keeps turning his head, looking at me over his shoulder. I start to get really annoyed, and even though I don't like to talk that much, I'm ready to shout at him and wonder what his fucking problem is, when he touches the girl's arm and they both stop. They stand close to the Taylor's house and, with a groan, I realize that have to pass them to get there.

"Hey, you live on this street?" the boy asks as soon as I come close enough.

I stop too, looking at him. I don't think I have seen him in any of my classes. I think I would have remembered that, since his hair is all red and his face is covered in freckles, as is the girls. They must be brother and sister.

"Yeah," I say warily.

"When did you move in? I didn't see any movin' trucks," the boy says.

"So?" I grumble.

"So which house is yours, then?"

"We live in that house," he offers when I don't answer, pointing somewhere down the street.

"I live there." I gesture with my head at the house behind them.

"With the Taylors?" he wonders, and I nod awkwardly when I realize he probably knows them.

"Are you their new foster kid?" the girl asks, and I blush now, not knowing what to say. I really hate talking about foster care. But I'm saved by the boy.

"What grade are you in?"

"Um. Sophomore."

"Yeah? I'm a junior." I'm a bit surprised because I honestly couldn't tell. He looks younger, even if he is kind of tall. I guess it's the freckles doing it. "I'm Jesse, and this is Joanne. She's a freshman."

"I'm Ponyboy," I say a bit hesitantly.

He raises his eyebrows slightly. "You're kidding, right?"

I frown. "No."

"Who names their kid Ponyboy? That's kind of crazy."

I know he probably didn't mean anything about it, maybe he still thinks I'm joking. But it stings anyway.

"I have to go," I say curtly, and then I just walk past them. I don't stop even when I hear him calling after me.

I drop my heavy backpack in the hallway, and rush up the stairs to my room. It's been a long time since I really thought about Mom and Dad - mostly I just think of my brothers these days - but I really miss them. Dad wasn't crazy. Jesse had no right to say something like that.

Someone knocks on the door, and then Mr. Taylor sticks in his head.

"I thought I heard you coming home. How was your first day?" he wonders.

I shrug and look away. "Fine, I guess."

"Something happened?" I hear in his voice that he's concerned, and I glance at him.

"No." I walk to sit down on my bed.

"You want to talk about it?" Mr. Taylor closes the door and drags out the chair to the desk and sits down too.

"I said it ain't nothin'," I grumble, but he just continues to look at me. After a while, I sigh. "I guess I just miss my home and my parents and all that." I bite my lip, not meeting his eyes.

"I understand that." He hesitates, but then he says, "It's always hard to lose someone."

I nod, and a tear slip out, but I hurry to wipe it away. I hate that I'm such a cry baby.

"It just feels like I'm losin' everyone," I suddenly hear myself say. "First Mom and Dad, and then Johnny and Dally, and now Soda and Darry too, and I know that it's different 'cause they're alive, but ..." I take a shuddered breath.

"You know they are welcome here as much as you want."

"Yeah, but it ain't the same as livin' with them. And they both work six days a week and it's a long way to drive."

"Maybe your oldest brother will get the custody back soon."

"It's been a year already," I mumble.

"Don't lose your hope, Ponyboy."

"Yeah." I rub my eyes, wanting him to go. I need to be alone. "I've got a lot of homework, so ..."

Fortunately, he gets the hint. "Okay. I won't disturb you anymore."

Not until he has left and closed the door again, I remember that my backpack is downstairs, but I can't bring myself to go and get it. Instead I stretch out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking of my family.

xXx

The next morning when I head for school, I hear someone calling my name. Throwing a glance over my shoulder, I see that it's Jesse. I slow down slightly until he has caught up with me on the sidewalk.

"Hey," he says, breathing hard after the run. "Listen, I want to say sorry 'bout yesterday."

"It's all right," I mumble.

"It ain't, really. I mean, I've been teased enough about my hair, so I shouldn't tease you about your name."

I don't tell him it wasn't him teasing me that bugged me yesterday, I'm too used to it. It was the thing about Dad, but I won't tell him that. I just keep my mouth shut and keep going, but he doesn't give up.

"So how long have you been livin' with Maggie and Sam?" he asks me.

"You know them?" I avoid his question.

"Yeah, we have been neighbors all my life. And they had this girl livin' with them last year, before she moved to her grandma in Texas. Joanne was friends with her."

I can't help but feel a bit strange about this new information. I didn't know they have had foster kids before me. I don't know what it means - will they also just keep me for a short while, before shipping me off someplace else? Not that I want to stay, but if I can't go home, I would probably chose the Taylors over any other foster family. I don't want to move again, not until I can go home. I'm so tired of being moved around, never really knowing where I'm going to be the next day.

"Have they had many foster kids?" I ask, trying not to sound worried.

"They had a couple of siblings for a while, before Barbara. I guess they just want kids in their house 'cause of their sons, you know."

"Their sons?"

He throws me a glance. "You don't know?" he asks, sounding a bit surprised.

"Know what?"

"About their sons."

"I didn't even know they have sons," I say, but I remember that name I read in the book and the pictures in the living room. I guess I kind of knew they have kids.

Jesse stops on the sidewalk and looks around, as if he's just about to share a secret. Then he leans closer to me, lowering his voice.

"They had sons, but both died in 'Nam."

"What?" That was not what I had expect him to say. I can only stare at him as he stretches up again and continues in a normal voice.

"Yeah. They took it damn hard, you know. And then their daughter got married and moved to California." He eyes me. "You seriously didn't know?"

"They haven't talked about it," I say dazed, feeling a bit shocked and almost nauseous. Their sons are dead? Both of them?

We slowly start walking again, and the day seems much colder all of a sudden.

"Were they drafted?" I ask quietly, because the draft scares the hell out of me. I still think of Soda every time someone even mentions Vietnam.

"No. John was already in the military, and Nicholas joined the year after he died. It was like, ten years ago or somethin'."

"But why did he do that?"

Jesse shrugs. "I don't know. I guess he just felt like it."

We walk the rest of the way in silence.

xXx

When I get home that day, I go to the open fireplace to look at the photos on the mantelpiece. I guess the oldest looking must be John, the other Nicholas, but they are very much alike. Both have short hair and stand with their backs straight and with serious expressions on their faces, but their eyes remind me of Maggie's. Hers are always happy, and I wonder how she manages that, now that I know about what happened to them.

I pick up John's photo. He looks young, maybe just a couple of years older than Darry. I wonder what it feels like losing a kid ... it must be awful. Worse than losing a parent, I guess. I feel a bit bad for complaining about what I have lost so much, acting like I'm the only one life has been unfair to, especially in front or Mr. Taylor. I wonder what he thinks of me now.

A sound behind me makes me jerk out of my thoughts, and I nearly drop the frame I'm holding.

"I'm sorry," I hurry to say, a bit scared. Mr. Taylor doesn't say anything at first, just takes the photo from me and put it back in its place as I back away. But before I have the time to leave the living room, he speaks up.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, Ponyboy." He sounds a bit sad.

"I'm not," I mumble, clutching my arms around me. Sometimes I'm just a terrible liar. I usually manage to lie just fine; but maybe not when I'm surprised like this.

"Come here." He gestures with his hand, and I walk slowly to stand beside him, unsure of what he wants. But he only stands there, looking at the photos.

"Those are my kids," he says, and I nod awkwardly, not knowing what to say. "John, Nicholas and Dorothy. She lives in California now. We have a grandson, but we barely see him. It's a long way to travel."

I almost blush, thinking of yesterday and my complaining about the long drive from Tulsa.

"John and Nicholas both died in the war. Vietnam," he adds.

"Um, Jesse told me," I say quietly. I just can't pretend that I didn't know.

"Jesse?"

"He lives somewhere on this street," I say. Then I add, "I don't really know him."

"Maybe you should try to get to know him. He's a good boy."

"Maybe," I say, thinking that I won't. What's the point? I will probably be forced to move from this place too, and then get another person in my life that just gets ripped away from me. I think of Andrew and Ricky and maybe even Evan back at the boys home. I guess Andrew is the only one I truly miss sometimes, but I'm afraid Jesse would be someone I would miss even more. I can't be friends with him. Not with anyone.

xXx

"You want to have lunch with us today?" Jesse asks me. He stands by my locker as always, stubbornly asking me every day to hang out with him. I don't know why he bothers so much, when I only say no.

"I don't eat lunch," I tell him again, opening my locker to put in my books. Usually, he lets it be. Not this time.

"Yeah, but you should. You're kind of skinny, you know."

"No, I'm not," I mutter.

"They have hamburgers," he tries.

"No."

"Yes they have. But I guess you meant no as in, _No, I ain't comin_'?"

I roll my eyes and close my locker again, starting to walk down the hallway.

"We have a party tonight," Jesse says, walking up beside me. "Want to come?"

I shake my head.

"Why not?"

"I just don't want to." I push up the door and walk out, hoping he will leave me alone soon, but he's still following me. I go around the corner of the building and sit down on one of the benches standing against the school's brick wall.

"I'm sure Maggie and Sam would let you. They know Jamie will keep an eye on us."

"Who's Jamie?" I mutter, and dig up my pack of kool's from my jack pocket.

"He's my older brother."

I shrug and light my cigarette.

"Oh come on! You're fuckin' fifteen! I know you never do anythin' other than homework or readin'."

"How do you know that?" I ask, but then it hits me. I glare up at him where he stands with his hands in his pockets. "This is Mr. Taylor's idea, ain't it?" I accuse him, and he gives me a sheepish grin.

"Don't be mad at Sam. He asked me to be friends with you, but I only said yes because I wanted to."

"I don't need friends," I mutter.

"Sure you don't," he says, not believing me one bit.

"I already have friends!"

"Yeah? Where are they, then?"

I lean back, looking away. "Tulsa," I say shortly.

xXx

I get a phone call one evening. At first, I'm sure it's my brothers - we call each other every night now - even if it is a bit early for them. They usually wait until they are both home from work, and the time isn't even five o'clock yet. But as I pick up the phone from the table in the hallway, Mr. Taylor nudges my arm.

"It's a Mr. Parker," he whispers.

"Oh." My heart flutters as I press the receiver against my ear. "Hello?"

"_Is this Ponyboy Curtis_?" a deep voice asks me from the other end.

"Yeah."

"_I am Mr. Parker. I'm a lawyer in family matters, and your brothers came to me and wanted to hire me to help them get back the custody of you._"

"Okay," I say, even if I already knew that.

"_Before I can take this case, I must be sure this is what you want. I don't want to stand in court and discover that the kid I'm trying to help wants to stay where he is._"

My cheeks burn. "Yeah. Yes, I really want to go home."

"_And you will not change your mind_?"

"No. I want to go home. I want Darry to have the custody."

"_You mean Darrel Curtis_?"

"Yeah." I hesitate, and then I ask, "Can you really help us?"

"_I don't know yet. Your brothers will pay me the first fee next week, and then I will start to look at the case. I can't promise anything._"

I don't know what to feel. Both relieved and scared, I guess. Glad that something is finally happening, scared that it won't go our way. I have longed for this moment, but now that it's here, I'm suddenly sure that we're going to lose. The Taylor's are too perfect. They are just nice and help me in every way they can, all the time. And it shows.

Ms. West came by a couple of days ago, and I could see how pleased she was with everything. It's like she has got her proof now, that she was right about me, and I don't want her to think that way; that it was a correct decision to remove me from Darry. Because it wasn't. It doesn't matter if the Taylors has more money and lock their doors at night and I don't get jumped by Socs and my grades are going up again ... I don't belong here. It's strange that the home I feel most comfortable in, is the one I almost hate the most. Because which judge would let me go back home now? No one. Even I can see that Darry can't compete with the Taylors in court to be allowed to have me back, and it hurts.

"_I'll keep in touch,_" Mr. Parker says, and then he just hangs up on me before I have the time to say anything.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading and reviews and everything! This story is not near the end yet... I think maybe 8-10 more chapters... hope you want to stick around for them :)  
_

_I'm soon going away for a few days so next chapter might be delayed a bit. I will really try to update next week too, but I might not be able to._


	17. Stranger

**On a Long Road**

**17. Stranger**

"What's takin' so long?" I ask impatiently, glaring at my brothers a bit. The three of us are sitting in a booth at a cheap restaurant in Oklahoma City, waiting for our food to arrive. It has already been thirty minutes since we ordered, but that is not what I'm asking for. I couldn't care less about the food; I'm not hungry anyway.

Soda stops playing with his napkin. Something flashes in his eyes, showing that he understands exactly what I mean.

"He said it would take some time," he explains, calmly but not really able to hide his own anger. "I guess we'll have to wait 'til after the holidays."

"But there's still a month left until christmas!" I protest loudly, making a couple sitting nearby turn their heads and look at me. Blushing, I lower my voice. "Why can't we go to court before that? What's the problem?"

Darry eyes me tiredly. This is killing him, I know. I hate the way he looks, the way he's wearing himself out to get me back. I do want to go home, that's the only thing I wish for, but it's hard seeing Darry like this. He's only twenty-one, but he already appears older than Dad was when he died.

"Pony, please calm down," he begs me now.

I lean back, crossing my arms.

"I am calm," I mutter. Darry opens his mouth to answer, but at the same time the waitress comes with our food, and he clamps up again. I do, too, even if I want to yell at them, at everyone. Especially Mr. Parker. He could at least call us, when he said that he would. I know it's not my brothers fault but I just have to blame someone. I wish they could do more.

Not in the mood to eat, I just pick at my fries. I put my elbow on the table and lean my head in my hand. Both my brothers seem rather depressed too - none of us say much, and the only one eating everything on his plate is Darry. I think he just does it out of habit - he can't have much of an appetite either, the way he chews his hamburger down like it tastes of nothing.

I don't want it to be like this when we only can meet once a week, all quiet and awkward, but it's like the air has left us today. I guess we had all hoped something would have happened by now - just a court date would do - but there is nothing. No change at all. I doubt once again that it will ever come. I'm stuck here, the state has its grip on me and they will never let me go.

I shudder, thinking I'm going to throw up or something, so I push my plate away, the food almost untouched. I don't think my brothers notice, since neither of them say anything about it. Nothing is like it should be between us today.

We walk out of the restaurant and down the street to the parking lot, to drive me back to the Taylor's. I know Darry and Soda need to go soon - it's getting dark faster now, and they have said on the news that there's a risk of a blizzard tonight. I don't want anything to happen to them on their way home, but I wish they could have stayed longer.

"We'll call you tomorrow," Soda tells me when he hugs me outside the house later. Then he adds, like he could read my mind, "And don't worry, Pone. Things will start to happen soon."

"What if it doesn't?" I mumble.

"It will," he says as I take a step back. He grabs my arm to make me come closer again. "I promise, okay?"

I don't think he believes it. Deep down, he knows we have already lost, but he would never admit it. He's too determined.

"You have said that before," I say quietly anyway, pretending I don't see the pain flicker in his eyes at my words. He throws a glance at Darry, as if asking for help.

"We didn't have the money before," Darry tries to soothe things over. "Mr. Parker is looking into our case right now."

"Fine."

"Pony -"

"I said fine!" I give them a forced smile. "I know you're doin' all you can."

"We'll do more than that," Soda tries to assure me before giving me one last hug. It feels like he doesn't want to let go, but then we have to.

It's always so hard to see them go; I think it's getting worse each time. I stand on the curb until I can't see the taillights of the truck anymore, and then I sigh and dip my head as I walk inside.

I go to the living room and plop down onto the couch, closing my eyes. I'm so tired. The radio is on, on a low volume, and I think of home and all the sounds there. We would never play the radio this low, or someone would come and turn it up immediately, letting it compete with the TV on what blasts the most. But I doubt Maggie and Sam would like it if I turned the radio up. Besides, it's the wrong channel anyway. This only plays the classical stuff, not the rock 'n' roll we prefer.

"Do you want some hot chocolate?"

I open my eyes. Maggie stands on the other side of the coffee table, smiling at me. I'm still not in the mood for anything, but I hate to disappoint her.

"Um, okay. Thanks."

They have insisted that I should call them by their first names since my first day here, but I have only managed to do it the last week or so. It felt weird at first. It still does, but I'm trying - I know it makes them happy.

I follow her out into the kitchen and sit down at the table as she takes out a pan and a whisk.

"Are Darry and Soda okay?" she asks me while pouring milk into the pan.

"Yeah," I say first, but she continues to look at me and I bite my lip. "No. I don't know. Darry seems so tired all the time, and Soda..." I trail off. Sometimes I think Soda takes this worse than I do. I think he thinks he has failed me. Me accusing him of not caring didn't make it any better, either - every time we have met since then, I can see how hard he tries to assure me that he does. But he shouldn't have to.

"Has the attorney called them?"

I place my arms on the table. "No."

"Things like this can take some time."

"Soda said that too but I don't get why." I try not to glare at her. This is not her fault either, but sometimes I'm just mad at the whole world. She looks like she tries to come up with something to say, but apparently she can't think of anything. I look down at my hands instead, stroking one of my fingers over the opposite hand and along my arm. The skin is soft there, on the inside, and I dig in my nail a bit, pressing it down until it leaves a crescent mark. I do one more, digging harder. For some reason it feels almost good. It's a pain I can understand.

I glance up at Maggie, but she stands with her back turned to me now, whisking in the pan. I sigh and drag my sleeves down over my hands.

When the chocolate is hot enough, Maggie pours it into a cup and hands it to me, sitting down at the table too.

"You know we love to have you here, dear," she says.

I nod, lifting my cup as I avoid looking at her.

"I don't want you to be unhappy, but I want you safe."

I swallow and put the cup down again.

"I was safe at home!"

"I don't doubt that. But people only want what's best for you. Sometimes they are wrong, and that is sad, but they have to make sure."

"What do you mean?" I mutter.

"Things take time so people can make sure they are about to make the right decision."

"Yeah? They didn't even think that in the first place. They just came and got me! They didn't think at all because if they did, I would have been home!"

My outburst makes me blush, and I stare at my cup on the table. I know she only means well, and is trying to say the right things to make me feel better. It's just that there are no right things to say, nothing I want to hear. The only thing would be if Ms. West came here and told me it was a mistake, I can go home right away, but that would still not give us all the time back.

It's silent for a long time. I feel Maggie watching me, even though I refuse to look up. But in the end, I force myself to do it.

"I'm sorry," I choke out.

She gives me a sad smile. "You don't have to be sorry for anything, honey."

xXx

It's the end of the semester soon, and I have so much work to do. All teachers have their own tests, all classes assignments that need to be done, and I spend my evenings at the kitchen table, papers and books spread out. I only take a pause for dinner and the daily phone call to my brothers, but I still have to struggle. My mind keeps wandering everywhere, except on what I'm trying to read.

I'm lucky to have Sam to help me. He sits with me every day, going over my work and helping me all he can. I think I have raised my grades pretty good thanks to him.

"I have never seen a boy study this hard before," he says one day, looking at me a bit proudly. I stop writing, glancing up at him.

"I have to if I want a full scholarship for college." Then I frown a bit at myself. I'm not even sure I want a scholarship anymore. I wanted one to get away from my neighborhood, but now I can't stand the thought of leaving it again if I ever make it back. I know it's poor and bad and everything - but it's home. I miss everything about it - the run-down houses and cars, the smell and the people; I almost even miss looking over my shoulder for Socs as I walk on the streets. Darry would probably cuff the back of my head if he knew what I was thinking. I know he wanted me out of there, but not like this. He wants us all out from there in time, but all I can think of is making it back. And then staying forever.

"You know," Mr. Taylor says slowly, "we still have John's and Nicholas' college fund money. We saved up for them before we knew they were leaving for the army."

I stiffen when he searches to meet my eyes.

"We're too old to use it. We would love to help you if you need it."

"I don't need it."

"Ponyboy ..."

I grip my pen harder, feeling so ungrateful, but I just _can't_. It's not right. "I don't need your money!"

He doesn't sigh, or get mad. He just smiles as usual, making me feel even worse. "Okay. That's good."

I rub my forehead, the familiar headache on its way. It doesn't come as often anymore, but Sam still knows the signs. I guess I kind of scared them a lot the first time, I don't know, but as soon as I make the little movement, he gets up to go get me aspirin and a glass of water.

I feel ashamed of myself for how I treat them sometimes. Pushing them away when they are only being nice. It's like I'm looking for errors, just something that is bad, but I can't find anything and that makes me almost dislike them. I don't want that. I wish I could just like them, because I really would have if I didn't have to stay with them.

I know I should be thankful, but I'm not. Them being so great just makes it worse.

xXx

I don't really know how it happens, but I start walking home from school with Jesse and his sister. Part of me thinks that it just has to do with the fact that we walk the same way anyway, but deep down I know it's because I have missed company. Someone my own age. I haven't really had someone since Ricky and his friends, but they were never _my _friends. I guess that is the reason why I suddenly agree to even go home with Jesse one day.

I drop into the house to tell Maggie, and she's almost too overjoyed by the fact that I will spend the day with a friend.

"Just be home for dinner," she says, and I nod and slip out through the door, wondering if this maybe is a mistake.

Jesse's house lies three houses down on the other side of the street. It's nice, I guess, upper middle class like the Taylor's, but inside is a bit messier. I realize why when I see three kids running around in the living room, all of them red-haired like Jesse. I wonder how many siblings he has, but I don't ask. I just follow him to his room, which he seems to share with someone. There are two of everything; beds, desks, chairs, closets.

Jesse yanks the window open, and then we sit on the windowsill and smoke for a while, staring out at the snow. I don't swing both my legs over as he does, since we're on the second floor and I don't like heights that much.

"Christ," Jesse swears after a while. "I can't wait for christmas break." He flicks the cigarette butt out, and we both watch it disappear down.

Me neither - I hope I'm going home for christmas. But I feel cold - and not only because of the chilly air - when I think that it's my second christmas where I don't live with Darry and Soda. When I go home, I'm only a visitor. It doesn't matter if most of my things are still there and we all act like _this_ is a visit, like foster care is something temporary, because I don't know if we can call it temporary anymore. A year is not temporary.

I shudder, and then I throw out my cigarette butt too, and we jump down from the sill so Jesse can close the window again.

He has his own radio - or actually it's Jamie's, Jesse tells me, but since he will get a new one for christmas it will technically be Jesse's soon enough - and we play it while we sit on the carpet with our school books open in front of us.

"So how come you're stayin' with Maggie and Sam?" Jesse asks me after a while, and then he makes a little grimace. "Or maybe you don't wanna talk about it?"

I slowly flip through the pages in my book, and end up at a chapter I don't even have to read. I chew on my bottom lip, trying to decide if I should tell him or not.

"It's ... um. No."

"I shouldn't have asked," he says sheepishly. "Sorry."

I just nod, pretending I start reading, feeling my heart thud faster. He says those things sometimes, that make me so uncomfortable I don't know what to do.

"You have Mr. Ryder in English, right?"

Finally a safer subject. I feel how I relax a bit, looking up. "Yeah. What about it?"

"I had him last year. Maybe I can help you study for his test? I know what he will probably bring up."

"Um, okay." I close the book and put it back in my backpack, then dig through it to find my English books.

It's actually kind of fun to study with Jesse. A lot more fun than to study with Sam. Jesse seems to always open his mouth and speak before he thinks, and soon he tells me about how that sometimes gets him into real trouble. I'm actually laughing after a while, and I'm surprised how fast the time flies by. When I have to go back to Taylor's, I almost feel a bit disappointed, even though I know it means I will soon talk to Darry and Soda on the phone again.

"Maybe we can hang out some other time?" Jesse says as he walks me to the front door.

"Okay," I say as I stick my arms into the jacket sleeves.

"Great. See you tomorrow in school, then."

I stop smiling out on the street. What am I doing? I slowly start walking back to the Taylor's, wishing the way had been a bit longer to give me some time to think. It feels like I always have to battle with all the conflicted emotions inside me, what is right to feel and what is not. I don't want to betray either my brothers or myself by enjoying myself, because, that's what I do right? But I'm not okay with this even if I smile and laugh, so it can't be wrong. I hope it's not wrong. Even if I like Taylor's and Jesse, it's not like I'm trying to replace my old life with this. This might be good, but it's not _better_. Not for me.

Outside of the Taylor's house, I stand still on the curb, staring at it. The snow crunches under my shoes as I move my feet slightly to keep them warm. I decide that I just need a cigarette before I walk inside, and I fumble with the pack and lighter.

I wish I could talk to someone. I have so many things I never can tell my brothers or friends, so many things I can't tell Maggie or Sam. Maybe I should try to talk to Jesse, I don't know. I don't even know him, but he seems nice. Maybe he would be a good listener.

xXx

The second christmas holiday since the state came and took me away is rainy. I don't care about the weather, though - I just sink down into our couch, feeling how great it is to be here again, breathing in the air and scent of home. I wish the time could stop and give me forever, but at least I have five days. Five, long days in Tulsa. Maggie and Sam will fly to their daughter in California early tomorrow, and I almost broke down when they told me they had to ask Ms. West before they decided if I could go home or if had to go with them. I was so sure she would say that I couldn't spend the time with Darry and Soda, but here I am.

Five days. I almost can't believe it. I know that the time will probably move too fast, but I will try to do my best with all the minutes I have.

Soda grins as he plops down beside me, slinging an arm over my shoulders.

"It's so good to have you here," he says, at the same time Two-Bit and Steve burst in through the front door, dripping water on the floor. Two-Bit carries a six-pack, and his grin gets wider when he sees me.

"Look who's home!"

"No tree this year?" I ask him as he strides over the floor and places the beer on the coffee table.

"Oh, I'll fix that, don't you worry a bit, Ponyboy. There's no christmas without a tree."

"Or beer, obviously" I say.

"You got that right, kiddo." He cracks one open and takes Darry's recliner. "Where's superman?"

I really love to just sit here, talking and laughing, and I try to keep all the bad thoughts away but soon I notice that I can't. I try to think that nothing has really changed, but it has. There is something in the way we're happy, like we're all just pretending. Something in the way we act, sudden glances or a smile that disappears as soon as a subject is brought up that reminds us. Like when Two-Bit starts telling me about something that happened this summer, because I was obviously not here to know about it, or Steve and Soda joking about things they have done at the DX. It's not that I want them to stop living, but I stop talking after a while, just watching them. They are so tight, still such good friends, even after losing Dally and Johnny, even after losing me.

Suddenly I almost feel like an outsider. Like I'm standing outside the house, forced to only look in through the window at my brother and friends. Like I'm not a part of this life anymore. I feel something cold in the pit of my stomach, and it just spreads until I almost can't stand it, and I rise, quickly saying that I just need to go to the bathroom when Soda shoots me a questioning look.

Locked inside, I sit down on the floor with my back against the door and my head between my knees, and I try hard not to cry. It's not the same as it was when I lived here. I wish it was the same, but it's not. I wonder if it's me who has changed, or the gang, or maybe even the house, because it all _looks_ the same and it should be the same. So why isn't it?

I sit up straighter, leaning my head backwards instead, swallowing down the lump. It's ridiculous. This is my home too, I'm not a stranger. If I start to think that way, the state will win, and I would never let them do that. Not yet.

There is a knock on the door, and I scramble to my feet, turn around and stare at it.

"Pony? You okay?"

"Yeah," I answer quickly, as Soda tries the handle but is stopped from getting inside by the lock.

"C'mon, let me in," he urges, and I take a step forward and turn the lock around, before backing away again. My brother slips inside, closing the door behind him.

"What's the matter?" he says as he turns to face me, sounding worried.

I shrug weakly, avoiding his eyes. "I don't know," I say a bit miserable.

"You've been in here for almost half an hour," Soda says, surprising me. I didn't realize it has been that long. "Darry just came home from work."

I bit my lip and look down.

"Pony?" Soda pleads, and I don't want to repeat the fight on the porch two months ago. I have to talk to him. I have to tell him what's bugging me even though I know he will hate to hear it. I clutch my arms around my body, my fingers digging into my skin so hard it hurts.

"I just ... I just feel like a stranger here sometimes." I'm forcing myself to meet his gaze this time. "Like I don't belong anymore."

He's upset by my words, I can tell.

"You ain't a stranger, Pony. This is your home too. As much as it is mine and Darry's. For christ sake Ponyboy, don't talk like that!"

His face softens as I feel myself dip my head.

"I don't know, Soda. I just wish it was like before."

"It will be." He reaches out and takes my arm, drags me closer to wrap his arms around me. "I will be, kiddo," he repeats. "Next time you'll be home for good, okay? I won't let them keep you."

I nod against the crook of his neck, but I think it's too late. It will never be okay again.

* * *

_I'm so sorry this took so long time to update! I hope you want to review anyway. It really means a lot to know what you think. Next chapter will have a faster update, I promise! _


	18. Five Months

**On a Long Road**

**18. Five Months**

My heart is speeding. I sit between Darry and Soda in a comfortable chair, and I'm so excited and nervous at the same time. I never thought this day would come, but it did, and now we're here waiting for the next move to get me home.

Our lawyer is a tall man in his forties, with black hair and a big nose. He's sitting down and leaning back in his chair, looking at us as he tries to figure us out. I can't help but wonder a bit what he sees. Or thinks he sees. We don't really fit in these surroundings, even though I know he's not the most expensive attorney in Tulsa. Still, the furniture in this room must have cost more than all the furniture in our entire house put together.

"What do you say?" Darry asks him, finally breaking the silence. He nods towards the paper stack on the desk, the one I guess tells Mr. Parker all about my life the past years.

"You want honesty?" Mr. Parker raises his eyebrows, but still manages to look serious.

"Of course," Darry responds, sounding a bit irritated over the question.

Mr. Parker places a hand on top of the papers, and the answer comes curtly. "You're going to lose if you take this to court."

Wondering what's going on, I throw a worried glance at Soda, who tenses noticeably.

"What?" I hear Darry say, baffled.

"You're going to lose," Mr. Parker repeats slowly, like we're little kids he needs to explain things to. "You don't even have a case right now."

"We ain't gonna lose," Soda exclaims. "You know how many times they have moved him around? He's had four homes in fifteen months. Four! They just jabbered on 'bout what's best for Pony in court last time, and that's it? I don't think so, so don't fuckin' tell us we ain't got a case!"

"Soda," Darry warns, and Soda leans back again, but I can see him clench his hands in his lap. His eyes burn.

Mr. Parker sighs. "Our problem is that you don't understand how this works. It doesn't matter what the state does - what matters is what _you_ do."

"How can it not matter what they do? Just look at him! How they treat him -"

"Soda!" Darry barks over my head. Soda glares at Darry, but he clamps his mouth shut this time too.

"It doesn't matter what they do, because they are not the ones that have to prove anything," Mr. Parker continues as if he wasn't interrupted. "If you bring up the amount of foster homes and try to make that look bad, all they have to do is give Ponyboy a permanent place in a boys home, and the judge would accept that. You have to realize Ponyboy is in the system now, and the system won't easily confess that they have failed. They can blame the many homes on circumstances out of their hands. Maybe they can even blame it on Ponyboy."

His words hit me like a punch. "I don't wanna go to a boys home," I mumble anxiously.

Darry places a hand on my shoulder, rubbing gently. "You won't," he tells me, but I know that is not his decision at all. He can't really comfort me.

Darry turns to the lawyer again. "So what can we do?"

Mr. Parker turns the palms of his hands upwards, as if to say he's sorry. "According to the facts you have given me, there's nothing you can do."

"I won't accept that."

"We'll get another lawyer," Soda grits to my right. "C'mon, Darry, let's get out of here."

"Let me ask you something," Mr. Parker says hastily before we have the time to rise. "What has changed this year? What is different in your home since they took the custody of Ponyboy from you?"

I glance at Darry but he says nothing.

"Why did they take him?" Mr. Parker repeats, even though I know he knows; Darry has told him everything about what happened.

"We have told you why," Soda snaps. "We pay you to help us get him back, not to tell us there's no point in even tryin'!"

"I don't want to take an already lost case to court. You need something better than just wanting your brother back. You have to show them that what made them take him in the first place is not a fact anymore."

Darry and Soda share a glance over my head. I don't know what they're thinking, but I feel numb. The fact is that they took me because I'm an underaged orphan, and we won't be able to bring our parents back. They took me because they think Darry can't to see my needs, but how will he be able to prove to a judge that he does? He can keep me out of trouble, give me a curfew, make sure I'll keep my grades up, lock our door at night, feed me and clothe me, but how will the court know that if they don't let me go home _first_? We can't show them anything as long as I stay with the Taylors.

"Both Soda and I work more," Darry finally says, trying to make it sound great. "We pinch in every extra hour we can. We have a bigger income than before."

"That is not to your benefit." Mr. Parker drags a hand over his chin. "That only means you are home less. You won't be there when Ponyboy comes home from school."

Soda points at me with his thumb. "He's fifteen!" he says harshly. "He doesn't need a sitter."

"You can't look at this from your own point of view," Mr. Parker says. "You have to think about how the judge will see this. We have to convince them that you are better for Ponyboy than what the state is for him in their care."

I close my eyes, suddenly knowing what will come.

"In his current home, both his foster parents are home during the day. They live close to school in a very nice neighborhood. They have money. They have raised kids multiple times before. Ponyboy's grades are better than they have been in a long time. He's not running wild, he does not get into fights. He has gained weight. Do you see what I'm talking about? What do you think the judge will say when he compares this to what you have to offer?"

The silence that comes after is palpable. I wish my brothers would say something. I open my eyes, seeing Soda stare down at the floor. He looks more devastated than angry now. But when I turn my head, I see Darry has his hard gaze locked with Mr. Parker's, not giving up at all.

"I don't care how good they are to my brother," he says sternly. "Of course I appreciate that they're nice, but _we're _his family. I won't just let this slip without fighting for him. So I'm asking you now, Mr. Parker. Will you help us, or do we have to go to someone else?"

The tension in the room turns so great it feels like I can reach out and touch it. Soda still sits like frozen - I guess reality has finally caught up within him, too. I wonder just how much it will destroy him when we lose in court a second time. Maybe it's better we never go there, so we won't get our hopes up just to get crushed again. I don't know if I can stand it.

"Darry," I say quietly, but he doesn't listen.

"We're going to court," he just says, ignoring me completely. "There's no other option."

Mr. Parker eyes him.

"You're sure?"

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

Mr. Parker seems to contemplate it.

"Well, then, my only advice is that you go to court when Ponyboy is sixteen. There are judges that will agree to listen to a child that age. If Ponyboy really wants to go home then, he might be allowed to do so since there's no abuse involved in why the custody was taken away from you. It's expected a sixteen year old is able to handle themselves a bit better than someone of a younger age. I'm not saying it will work, I'm just saying you might have a better chance."

"He ain't sixteen until the end of July." Soda looks up from his crouched position. "We can't wait until then."

"I'm sorry, but that is the best I have to offer."

"How big of a chance?" Darry asks strained. "If we wait."

"I'm sorry, I can't say."

"And you really think we have no chance at all going to court now?"

Mr. Parker shakes his head. "My experiences tell me no. No judge would give you the custody when things look like they do right now."

Soda mutters something under his breath. I can see that Darry doesn't like this either, but it's obvious he's thinking of accepting it.

"But will they listen to Pony when he's sixteen?"

"That would depend on the judge. I can try to use my influence, but I can't promise anything. I can make you a deal - wait until July, and if you win, you pay me full price. If not, I'll cut your fee down to, let's say 75 percent."

I feel Darry looking at me.

"It's five more months," he says hoarsely, but I know that what he's really doing is asking me what _I_ want to do. I swallow the lump in my throat.

"Okay," I whisper to him, even though I don't want to. I want to go to court now and go home, but I just know Mr. Parker is right. The state has all the great cards in their hands. And even though I'm ashamed of even thinking it, the boys home scares me so much I'd rather stay with Maggie and Sam.

"It ain't okay," Soda protests. "Darry, you can't agree to this!"

"If it's better waiting, then we wait."

Soda flies up to his feet. "What?" he shouts at Darry. "How do you know? He's just _one_ lawyer! I bet there's a lot of them who will agree to take this to court next week! You know we can win, Darry. You _know _it!"

"Soda, sit down!"

Soda stops, his eyes shooting daggers. "Go to hell, Dar!"

He rushes out from the room, slamming the door shut after him. I look at Darry for a second before I rise too, running after Soda, ignoring Darry calling after me.

I catch up with Soda on the staircase, but even though I'm right behind him, he doesn't say anything until we're outside in the cold.

"Christ," he swears then, kicking at the rail of the outdoor stairs. "This is ridiculous."

"It's only five months," I try, but it sounds bad even to my own ears. Five more months? I'm not sure I can do that. I want to go home today. And we can't even be sure we will win then either.

Soda whirls around and puts his face close to mine. "Don't tell me you agree with this too, Ponyboy," he hisses at me.

I look down on the ground, not feeling able to meet the rage in his eyes. "I'm just afraid of losing," I mumble. "I don't want to go to a boys home. If we lose they're gonna place me there until I'm eighteen. Maybe it's better we wait then, so we at least have a chance ..."

"We have a chance!" Soda says stubbornly. "You and Darry just don't get it."

He turns his back on me and I sigh, wondering if he might be right. Are we giving up too quickly? I sit down on the stairs outside the front doors, ignoring that it's too cold in the beginning of February to sit on concrete only dressed in jeans. When I light up a cigarette, Soda suddenly plops down next to me and snatches the pack from my hand.

It's always hard to see Soda smoke when he's upset. He always has this expression then, not fitting my happy-go-lucky brother at all.

"Has anyone hurt you, Pony?" he asks harshly, and I look away, the faces of Mr. Collins and Mr. James flashing in front of my eyes. "Well, have they?"

"No," I lie quietly. What good will come out of telling the truth? Besides, they didn't really hurt me. Not the way Soda would think if I told him. It's all just memories now anyway.

"The Taylor's are only good to you, then?"

"You've met them," I say a bit resigned. "You know them."

"Yeah, but I don't want to leave you in their care for five more months."

"Soda, I'm all right," I say, staring at my cigarette. This time Soda is the one looking away.

"I'm not," he retorts shortly, and then he refuses to say anything else. I sigh, knowing I have let him down.

xXx

The next day only Darry calls. I notice right away that Soda is not there with him.

"_He's out with Steve_," Darry says with a sigh before I have the time to ask. I'm not even sure I would have asked. I just curl the cord around my hand, trying to find something to say.

"_He just needs some time_."

"I know."

"_Don't be mad at him_."

I drop the cord and rub my eyes tiredly. "I'm not," I say. "He's the one that's mad at me."

Darry's quiet, like he searches for words. Then he says, "_So how do you feel about this, kiddo_?"

"I don't know," I say honestly. "You really think this is our only chance? Waitin', I mean."

"_I'm not an expert, Pony, but I know Mr. Parker is._"

"So we can trust him then?"

"_I don't know. But Soda is wrong, Pony. There ain't a lot of lawyers standing in line wanting to help us. He knows that too._"

My hand trembles. "Okay."

"_At least you're in a good home, all right? The time will pass quickly._"

"Yeah," I say, but I think we both know that it won't.

xXx

I notice I start to count down the days, despite better judgement. I can't help but think _July_ every morning I wake up, and I keep better track of the dates than I have ever done before. At the same time, I feel how I relax more and more. The Taylor's are very supportive of my family, and when I think of all the days I've got to go home in the past; thanksgiving, christmas, Darry's birthday, the anniversary of our parent's accident ... and on top of that all the phone calls I'm allowed to make, I can't say it's bad here. It's not like I can't try to stand five more months here, when I really think about it.

Soda finally calls three days later. He has been "out" every time Darry has called me, and even though I'm so mad at him, I think I understand too. Sometimes things take their time to really get to Soda, and when they do, it hits him so hard he almost can't stand it. I think he has always thought that I can come home any day, that I will miraculously show up on our porch steps and then just stay forever without a problem. The meeting at the lawyer's office and the words we heard then really brought him down to earth.

He speaks to me with a hoarse voice, so quiet I wonder if someone else is in the room and Soda doesn't want them to hear. I picture him sitting on the floor, with his DX cap still on since he said he called as soon as he stepped inside our house after work.

"_I can't keep my promise_," he says now. "_I told you we would come and get you if _..."

"Yeah, but you can't do that," I try to comfort him. "I can't live on the run. They would just find me and then lock me in or somethin'."

"_I'm a bad big brother. I should be able to protect you. Hell, I'm even eighteen now. I should be better_."

"You're good, Soda."

"_How can you even say that_?" He sounds bitter. I miss the old Soda so much.

"Please stop it," I beg him. "We're goin' to court after my birthday and then I'll be home."

I hear him curse softly.

"Soda?"

_"Yeah. Fine. I'm still here. Okay, we go to court after your birthday and then you come home_," he repeats.

"It can happen."

He's quiet.

"It can," I say again, because I need to hear him say it too. But he only sighs, and then there's some other sound, as if he rises from the floor.

"Soda, you promise to call me tomorrow?"

"_Yeah_," he says. "_I'm sorry. I just hate that you're so far away_."

I swallow. "Me too."

xXx

Some days I think I can never laugh again, but some are better. I hang out more with Jesse as the days pass. He even comes home with me from school sometimes, and we start doing stuff on the weekends, like going to the movies or just hanging out with other boys from school. There is a Dairy Queen he usually sits at with his friends, and we go there for Pepsi and hamburgers. I make sure to either go out after the phone call with my brothers, or be home before they go to bed so I can still talk to them.

It's the end of February when Jesse's big brother Jamie asks if we want to go to a small party with him and his friends. I hesitate, not knowing what Darry and Soda would say about it, but Jesse talks me into it.

It's Friday, and before I go I sit with Maggie and Sam in the living room, and they ask if I want them to invite Darry and Soda for dinner on Sunday when they come down.

I take a sip from my orange juice, thinking about it. Usually we go out on our own. It always feels a bit odd to have my brothers in the house, like it's wrong to mix my two lives together, but at the same time I know they want to come here, to know how I live. They have met Maggie and Sam plenty of times, and it seems like my foster parents really want to get to know them too.

"Yeah, okay," I finally decide.

"I have a friend who was an attorney before he retired," Sam says. "Maybe I should invite him too. He could give his point of view, maybe give you some advice on what to bring up when you go to court about the custody."

"He'll do that?"

"Of course. If I ask him. He loves Maggie's food so it won't be a problem to make him show up." Sam chuckles.

"His wife is lovely too," Maggie says. "Maybe I can ask her to bring her recipe for that pineapple pie she made last spring. Do you remember, Sam? You thought it was wonderful. I could make that for dessert."

The two of them continue talking about Sunday and what food to make, and I drink the rest of my juice and then rise to bring my glass to the kitchen. I throw a glance at the clock on the wall - there's still thirty minutes left until Jesse and Jamie will pick me up. I think Darry and Soda should be home by now, they're usually home early on Friday's, if they don't work overtime.

I walk up the stairs to give it a try.

xXx

There is a girl riding shotgun, and already two guys in the backseat, but Jesse and I manage to cram inside the car and close the door. Jamie turns from the front seat, giving Jesse a plastic bag.

"Just one each," he says lightly, like he doesn't believe we will obey him anyway. Jesse grins and picks up two beers, handing one to me. I take it and stare at it for a moment, before giving it back.

"Um. No thanks."

He takes it from my hand, raising his eyebrows. "Why not?"

I think of my brothers, and of Maggie and Sam. I have already lied about what we're going to do tonight, I don't want to come home to them and smell of beer. So I shrug, hoping he won't push it, and he doesn't. He puts it back in the bag and cracks his own beer open.

The party is rather small. Just a few college friends together in a small apartment, and none of them drink too much, to my relief. We mostly listen to music and talk and play poker. I still suck at it, and I don't even try one of the cheating moves Soda has tried to teach me. I know everyone would see me doing it anyway.

I lose all my cigarettes, but Jesse wins half of them. He tosses a stick to me with a grin.

"My treat," he says, and I scowl at him until he starts laughing.

Close to ten, Jamie slaps Jesse's leg. "I have to drive you guys home now, or Mom will throw a fit."

"We can stay until eleven."

Jamie snorts. "I don't think so. C'mon."

Jesse sighs, and when I rise, I realize I really enjoyed it tonight. It reminded me a bit of what we usually do at home, just sitting in the living room, not really doing anything but having a great time. I secretly hope Jamie will invite us some other time too.

About thirty minutes later, Jamie pulls the car into their driveway, and we all climb out.

"Just in time for curfew," Jamie smiles, watching his clock as a shadow rises from the bench on the porch. Squinting my eyes I see their sister, Joanne, with a blanket over her shoulders. Her gaze somehow finds mine in the darkness.

"Ponyboy, you have to go home," she says quietly.

"What?" At first I think she means home to Tulsa, but then I realize that she must mean home to the Taylor's.

"You have to go home. Now."

I'm confused. I was on my way anyway, and I throw a glance at Jesse, but he just shrugs.

"Something has happened. You really need to go home," Joanne urges, her eyes flicking over to Jesse for a brief moment. He seems to get something is wrong, and he places a hand on my shoulder. Suddenly I feel nauseous.

"Is ... is it Darry or Soda?" My voice trembles.

"I don't know. Someone just called earlier asking for you."

"I walk you home, man," Jesse says, but I shake my head, all dazed. Are they hurt? Both of them or just one? Or sick maybe? It can't be something worse. I refuse to think it's something worse. All I want to do is run to the house and grab a phone and call them, to hear their voices. I really need to hear their voices.

I turn around to run.

"Hey, Pony, call me tomorrow," I hear Jesse shout after me, but I don't answer. My heart pounds as if I have run five miles instead of just a few meters when I reach the fence to the Taylor's garden. I see two unfamiliar cars parked outside their house, but I ignore them, taking the gravel path and porch faster than I have ever done before, and I think my heart is going to explode. All I can think of is my brothers. Something has happened, something bad, and I think _please, please, please _...

I see Maggie on the couch, leaning forward with her head in her hands. I recognize the neighbor next door sitting with her, her arm around Maggie's shoulders and her mouth close to her ear. I don't hear what she's saying, and I'm just about to take a step into the living room when someone taps my arm.

"Ponyboy, come with me into the kitchen, please."

Another neighbor. I think her name is Mrs. Bates. I have met her a couple of times when she and her husband have been over for dinner.

"What happened?" I hurry to ask. "How's Darry and Soda? Are they okay? Are they -"

She raises a hand to silence me, and the knot in my stomach grows heavier. If something has happened to my brothers -

"What is it?" I almost feel hysterical. Why doesn't she just tell me?

Mrs. Bates sighs. Her face is all serious when she looks at me.

"Ponyboy, it's not your brothers. It's Sam. He ... earlier this evening, he had a heart attack."

I stare at her, trying to get what she's saying. At first all I can feel is relief; relief that my brothers are fine. But Sam ... Sam had a heart attack? It can't be true. He was all happy as I left, he and Maggie sitting in the living room, planning for the dinner with my brothers on Sunday. I suddenly feel sick.

"No." I shake my head. "No, he didn't." I turn around to go and ask Maggie what really happened, but Mrs. Bates places her hand on my arm, forcing me to stop. My pulse buzzes in my head, but I hear her clearly over the noise.

"I'm so sorry, Ponyboy, but he's dead."

* * *

_Thank you so much for reads and reviews and everything! I really, really appreciate it. And I hope you're not too mad at me for the ending of this chapter... _

_And sorry for any fact-mistakes in this chapter too. I made some things up._


	19. Grief

**On a Long Road**

**19. Grief **

They hit me in the gut, the words she's saying. It's almost like the night Mom and Dad died, when the cops stood on our porch. Their words felt so unreal, like everything they said was only a bad joke that wasn't even funny, until Darry's distressed face and Soda's sobs finally made me realize it was all true.

Nervously I start looking around, as if for searching for the right answer to this too. A bit surprised I notice more people in the house - I didn't see them before, but now I'm suddenly aware of them. I hear hushed voices from everywhere, but not what they are saying. A few stand in the kitchen and I feel their eyes on me, like they expect me to do something. Or say something. I just don't know what.

When it finally got me that Mom and Dad had died, I broke down completely in Soda's arms. And I remember everything from the night when Johnny and Dally died, even though my brain was all fuzzy from the fever and the concussion. I remember the empty feeling spreading inside me, from losing someone again, the despair I felt before it all went black in the lot.

This time it's different. I think this reminds me mostly of the night when Bob Sheldon died. Not him personally, because I didn't like him at all, and I like - _liked _- Sam; but the fear and panic I felt when I woke up next to the fountain is present here too. It competes with the sorrow for my attention, because if Sam is dead, what is going to happen to me? He was supposed to take care of me. He was supposed to be here until my brothers and I could go to court, that was the plan. That was the only reason that five more months could be an option, that I would stay here with him and Maggie.

Mrs. Bates must see that I'm almost losing it, because she guides me to a kitchen chair and tells me firmly to sit down. I start to shiver so badly my teeth clatter, but it's not even cold in here. I curl my arms around my body but I can't stop shaking. I hear Mrs. Bates saying something, and just a minute later a man comes with a blanket, and he drapes it over my shoulders, leaning down to face me.

"Are you their foster child?" he asks me. Somehow I manage to nod.

He pats my head before he leaves again, but not far - I see him standing in the corner, talking to Mrs. Bates. I close my eyes, feeling so tired all of a sudden. I want to shut out the world.

Just like Mom and Dad, Sam is gone without a warning. It can happen to anyone. I feel tears in my eyes but I can't cry in front of these people, these strangers that are mingling around. I wonder what they are doing here. I wish they would just leave, but I guess they are here for Maggie.

I wish Soda was here for me. Him and Darry both.

"You hang in there, boy?"

A pair of blue eyes looks into mine when I open them again. Ice blue, like Dally's, but the man's face is old and wrinkled.

"Dr. Anderson?" someone says in the living room. I think I hear Maggie crying.

"He's on his way. Linda called him."

"Here's some warm milk with honey."

I realize the last one is for me. Mrs. Bates again, and she holds a cup in her hands.

"I don't want it," I mumble.

"Dear, you're so cold you're shivering." She forces the cup into my hands. I have to admit I like the heat that spreads through my palms, up my arms. I imagine it reaching my heart, and I hear it beat, _dunk dunk dunk_ but Sam's stopped today. Just stopped.

Small snippets of the conversations around me draw me the picture. It happened just a few minutes after I'd left; ten, fifteen at most. Sam and Maggie sat in the living room when he rose to go and make some coffee for the two of them. He made it out into the hallway and then just dropped to the ground. He was dead long before he got to the hospital.

I think of all the ways of dying, and Sam was old, but not that old, he shouldn't have died already. And I wasn't here. If I had been, maybe I could have done something, instead of playing stupid games of poker and smoking too many cigarettes.

Was it really tonight? It feels like ages ago I was with Jesse and Jamie. It feels like I have been sitting in this chair forever.

I take a sip of the warm milk but it tastes really bad. I put the cup down on the table and then I rise, leaving the kitchen. No one stops me as I make my way out to the hallway and peek into the living room. Maggie is not there anymore. Looking over my shoulder I see that there are more people coming through the front door. One of them is Dr. Anderson, and I briefly wonder if he has come for me, but he just clasps my shoulder as he passes me, and disappears up the stairs.

I hesitate a second, then silently follow him, and just as I set my foot on the last step, I see him knocking on the door to Maggie and Sam's bedroom. Not waiting for an answer, he opens it and walks inside.

The hallway is empty now; I'm all alone up here. I drop the blanket to the floor and go to my room. After closing the door, I curl up into a ball on top of the bed, with my clothes and shoes still on, too tired to care about undressing. Tucking one of my hands under my cheek, I hope things will be okay again tomorrow.

xXx

Screams wake me up. Sitting up fast, I clamp a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound as I'm trying to calm myself down. My heart is beating wildly again, and my face is wet from sweat or tears. _Dammit_. I haven't had a nightmare for months, and this one really freaked me out.

I drop my hand and try to even out my breaths. It's like I can't get enough air, and I'm dizzy and feel weak and tired and everything. I wish I wasn't alone, but at the same time I don't want anyone to come and see me like this. I glance at the door, but no one bursts inside to check on me.

I climb out of bed and walk over the floor on shaky legs. Opening the door just a crack, I see that the hallway is all dark outside of my room. There's no sound either, and I wonder where everyone went. Maybe they went home.

I go to the bathroom and take a leak. When I flush, I almost jerk from the sound it creates. Holding my breath I stand completely still and listen to see if I woke anyone up this time, but it seems like I didn't. At least I can't hear anything.

I wash my hands, then lean down and drink some water straight from the tap. Wiping my mouth with my sleeve I walk out of the bathroom and down the stairs and into the living room. I stare at the armchair Sam was sitting in the last time I saw him. His pipe lies on a silvery plate on the coffee table. I wonder who's going to smoke it now.

Shaking my head to get rid of all the thoughts, I walk up to the bookcase and just pick a book without looking at which one it is. Curled up on the armchair, I turn on the lamp on the side table, and then I start reading.

xXx

When I wake up the next time, it's early morning. The sky is dusky white outside the window, and I stretch out my aching body. Both my neck and legs hurt from my awkward position in the armchair. The book lies on the floor where I obviously dropped it - I think I even remember it slipping out of my hands when my eyelids grew too heavy.

The front door opens and I stiffen, not knowing what to do, but then Dr. Anderson shows up in the doorway, and I relax again.

"Good morning, Ponyboy," he says, sounding a bit sad. I don't answer, and he walks into the living room and sits down on the couch. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," I say, and then I look away.

"Is Maggie up yet?"

Mutely, I shake my head.

"I gave her something to sleep on last night. I told her I would be back in the morning to check on her. Unfortunately, I can't stay long."

I study my hands in my lap, not knowing what to say.

"You take care of her today, Ponyboy?" Dr. Anderson asks. "Her daughter is on her way, but she won't be able to fly here until tomorrow."

When I still don't answer, he sighs, but then he pats my arm and rises.

"I'll go up to her now."

My fingers twitch. I really need a cigarette, but I don't have any - I lost them yesterday in the poker games. I lean back, staring up at the ceiling. I don't remember if I ever told Sam I'm grateful for all the things he did for me. I don't think I did - all he knew was that I wanted to go home. I should have said something, but it's too late now.

I sit like this when Dr. Anderson returns. I know that he's talking to me, and I say yes and no and nod at some places, but when the front door closes again and his car starts up outside, I have no idea of what he said to me.

I pick up the book from the floor and place it on the coffee table. Then I go out in the hallway and lift the receiver. I punch in our number, but the signals go by and no one answers. I guess they are at work. I try Two-Bit instead, but there's no answer there either. I don't have Steve's number, so I put the phone down and go to the kitchen.

I put coffee in the percolator; I boil some eggs. I put bread and butter and juice on the table. I'm so concentrated on what I'm doing I don't hear Maggie coming until she speaks.

"Ponyboy," she says, and I jerk so high I drop the pan I just lifted from the stove to the floor. I jump backwards as boiling water splashes out onto the floor and on my jeans and shoes. One egg stays miraculously in the pan, but the other rolls away in under the table.

"Oh my God, are you all right?" Maggie is by my side and gripping my arm, and we both stare down at the mess on the floor.

"Yeah, it didn't hurt," I say.

"Let me check."

She makes me sit down on the same chair I sat in yesterday. I lift one leg at a time and roll up my jeans, but the skin is just faintly red on some places. The fabric of my clothes saved me.

I look at Maggie, knowing I have to say something to her. I can't just ignore what happened yesterday.

"I'm sorry," I mumble. "About ... about Sam."

She smiles sadly.

"He was such a nice man," she answers, and then she walks slowly and sits down in her usual chair. "I'm going to miss him."

She's dressed in a night-gown and a morning robe, and her white hair is tousled. Her eyes are a bit dull, and I think that maybe Dr. Anderson gave her something, because she seems to not really be here.

Feeling strange, I rise and pick up the pan and place it in the sink, then I pour her a cup of coffee and place it on the table in front of her. She grips my hand for a short moment.

"Thank you," she says.

I sit down too. I take a sandwich and put it on my plate, but I don't eat it. I'm not very hungry. I just stare at it, wondering if I should ask her if she's going to keep me here or send me someplace else, but the question seems inappropriate now. I can't ask her.

"I never imagined this," Maggie suddenly says. "Being left alone." I hastily look up at her, but she has her face turned to the window. "Maybe I should have."

She drinks her cup of coffee and then she just leaves the table without a word. I hear her walk up the stairs again.

I rise too, leaving everything on the table. I'm not in the mood to clean up; I need to get out of here.

Even though I slept in my clothes the whole night, I don't care to go up and change. I just walk straight out through the front door, forgetting my jacket and everything. Stuffing my jittery hands down into my pockets, I walk down the street to Jesse's house.

Two of his kid brothers are outside, dressed in winter clothes and mittens. I realize it must have been snowing last night, because as far as I can remember, there was no snow yesterday. It's not much, though; grass peeks out through the thin layer on the ground.

"Hi, Ponyboy!" They wave at me.

"Jesse home?" I ask them, and the smallest points at the house, before they turn and run away around the corner.

I ring the doorbell, and after a minute, Jesse's mom opens the door. She looks sad when she looks at me.

"Good morning, Ponyboy, please come inside."

I shake my head. "No thanks. I just want to speak with Jesse."

"How is poor Maggie? I heard what happened to Sam. It's a shame. Both her sons those years ago and now her husband."

I shrug, not knowing what to say. Jesse's mom keeps talking until he finally comes down the stairs and sees me, and he walks to us and taps her shoulder.

"I'm goin' out, Mom," he says, and grabs two jackets from the hooks. When we're out on the street, he hands me one of them.

"It's Jamie's," he says. "He'll sleep until noon anyway."

I take it on me and drag up the zipper. "You have any cigarettes?"

"Yeah." He picks up a pack from his pocket and gives it to me. "You can keep them."

We light up a stick each, and then we walk in silence, smoking.

"So Sam is really dead?" Jesse says when we have reached the end of the street. "Kinda hard to believe," he continues.

I just nod. I don't really trust my voice.

"So ... are you stayin' at Maggie's now? I mean, she's still your foster mom, right?"

"She ain't my foster _mom_," I grumble. "Just foster parent."

"But that's the same, ain't it?"

Sometimes I wish Jesse would just shut up. I sit down on the curb, toss the cigarette butt between my feet and pick up the pack from my pocket. I will smoke them all. I will smoke until I get sick.

Jesse just stands there watching me as the minutes pass. Ignoring him, I continue to inhale the nicotine that will hopefully take away at least some of the pain, but when I'm just about to light up my fifth cigarette, Jesse leans down and snatches it from my fingers.

I frown up at him. "Give it back."

He shakes his head. "No."

I'm just about to shout at him, but then I press my lips together. It wasn't the last one in the pack anyway. But when I'm just about to shake out another stick, Jesse takes the whole pack from me too. I jump up to my feet, clenching my fists into balls.

"C'mon, Pony," Jesse says tiredly, holding the pack away from me. "Let's go home."

I cross my arms. "You can go home," I retort harshly. "You know I can't."

He just looks at me.

"Gimme my cigarettes," I demand.

"You just gonna get sick if you smoke anymore."

I glare at him, but he calmly meet my gaze, like he's challenging me to ask again. I'm so mad at him right now, but I don't want to fight him. I turn around to go, I can get cigarettes someplace else, but I forgot the street is a dead-end. I stop short, not able to walk any further or I will have to cross somebody's garden. I dip my head and take a shaky breath.

"You miss Sam?" Jesse asks, stepping up next to me. He doesn't have the pack in his hand anymore.

"It ain't about Sam," I mutter, but maybe it is. I don't know what it is.

"You know it's okay to be sad," Jesse says quietly. "My grandpa died five years ago and I was a mess for a long time."

"I don't care about your damn grandpa!" I turn my head away so he won't see my face.

"I'm just tryin' to help," he says, sounding a bit hurt. "I'm just sayin' -"

I whirl around. "You think I don't know?" I shout at him, and he stares at me, seemingly taken aback. I guess it's because I don't usually shout.

"Hey, Pony, calm down ..." he tries, but I'm too mad for that.

"You can try to calm down when both your parents are dead and you lost two friends the same night!"

I can't stand this anymore. I take off Jamie's jacket and throw it in Jesse's arms, and then I run, without looking back.

xXx

I wish the house wasn't full of people. When I get home after the fight with Jesse, neighbors and friends start to come by again. Some go after just a few minutes of chatting or leaving some food or flowers, but others seem to want to stay forever. I don't know what they are doing here since Maggie doesn't come out from her bedroom at all, and I do everything I can to avoid them. Mostly I just sit in my room, cursing Jesse because he took back the cigarettes.

I lie on the bed, trying to read; I pace the floor back and forth; I open the window and stand freezing in the cold air. I try not to think.

Sometimes one of the visitors knock on my door and sticks in their head, asking me if I want food or company or something else, but I just shake my head at every question.

I try to call my brothers but no one answers the whole day. Not until later in the afternoon, does Soda finally pick up. He immediately starts talking about tomorrow, and I hate that I have to interrupt him.

"I ain't sure you can come tomorrow," I tell him weakly.

"_Why not_?" he asks warily. "_Pony, what is it_?"

I chew on my lip, the words suddenly so hard to say. Not because I don't know what his reaction will be, but because it feels like I'm going to choke up. I remember Sam; his nice words, him encouraging me to have my hopes up about getting home again; him sitting by the kitchen table helping me with my homework. Him and I in the living room, reading books. I miss him. He was my friend.

"_Pony, you still there_?" Soda's worried voice reaches me and I take a breath.

"Yeah, I'm here. Soda, um ... Sam's dead."

He's quiet first, but then he says, like he almost doesn't believe it, "_What? Sam as in Mr. Taylor? Jesus, Pone ..._"

"It was his heart," I manage to say.

"_Are you okay? Shit, this is ... he just died?_"

I sit down on the floor, dragging on a thread on my jeans, swallowing a couple of times. "Yeah."

"_We're comin' down tonight,_" Soda decides.

"You can't do that," I mumble. "There's a lot of people here ..."

"_Like I care_," Soda says. "_I'll go and get Darry from work okay? We'll be there in a few hours._"

Relief suddenly washes over me. They're coming.

"Okay."

xXx

When I have hung up, I go out from the office and down the stairs. There's only a few others left now, and Maggie sits in the living room with Dr. Anderson and the neighbor I don't remember the name of. I don't say anything as I walk past them, just take my jacket and head outside.

I sit on the bench on the porch as I wait. I know it will take them some time to drive down here, but I don't care. I just can't be inside the house right now. I don't care that it's cold either; I sit and watch the stars appear and wish once again I could smoke.

My life is spinning out of control. I thought I had it planned out since we were at the lawyer's. I would stay here, call my brothers every day and meet them once a week, go home every school break and maybe even some weekend now and then. It would have been okay. I would have been able to stand the months until my birthday.

Now, I don't know what will happen, but I have this feeling it won't be good.

xXx

Maggie places her hands around the warm coffee cup. "Of course I'll keep him here," she says, softly but tired. "This house ..." She looks around in the living room where we all sit. It's only her, me and my brothers and the doctor left, and Darry eyes her suspiciously. I wish he wasn't that harsh on her; she just lost her husband and all, but I know he is thinking of me now.

"I just need to know that Pony doesn't have to move again," he says, leaning forward with a frown. "He has already moved too many times."

Maggie shakes her head. "I like him here," she says simple. "The house is empty enough as it is. He's welcome to stay."

I feel Darry relax some beside me on the couch. He nods. "That's good."

Soda has been awfully quiet since they got here. I wonder what he's thinking, but he doesn't say anything about it until later, when he and I stand alone in the driveway. It's close to midnight, and they have to head home again. I wish they could stay the night, but I think that would be too much for Maggie. She looked exhausted after the small talk in the living room.

Now Soda eyes me, hesitating over the words he wants to say.

"What is it?" I ask him.

"I'm just thinkin' ... I mean, it will sound bad."

"What will sound bad?"

He kicks at a small rock. "I ain't happy it happened, so don't even think that way." He stuffs his hands down into his pockets, avoiding my eyes. "But maybe ... I mean, it can be good in court, you know?"

I feel a bit confused. "That Sam died?"

"No. Not that he _died_," he protest. "But I mean ... things have changed now, right? It ain't the same. It ain't perfect anymore."

"Soda ..."

"I know," he groans. "I shouldn't think like this but I can't help it." He rubs his eyes, and when he meets my gaze again, he looks a bit ashamed.

I open my mouth to answer, but at the same time Darry comes out onto the porch with the doctor. They have been inside talking, and I'm a bit nervous if Dr. Anderson said something about me and that time I couldn't breathe. I see Darry shake his hand, and then walk down to me and Soda. He gives me a look, but doesn't say anything about their conversation.

"See you next week, then, Pony?" he just says.

"Okay."

"I'm sorry this was such a short visit."

I nod, looking down. We have already decided they won't come down again tomorrow, since Maggie's daughter will come and all. I think it's about the gas too - they can't spend too much on driving back and forth, since they have to save the money for court.

Darry places a hand on my shoulder. "It will be fine, Ponyboy," he tries to assure me. I look up, giving him a weak smile in return. Maybe he's right.

And no matter how bad it sounds, maybe Soda is too.

* * *

_I want to thank you so much for reading this story, and of couse for the reviews! Thank you for supporting me, I need that. I hope you tell me if this is getting boring or anything - I had planned for 20 chapters, then 25 but now I think there will be more. But I have it all planned out in my head so it's not just random chapters coming up. Just more details wanting to be written down than I thought from the beginning.  
_

_Anyway, I will try to update next chapter faster. Please review! It really means everything._


	20. Frozen

**On a Long Road**

**20. Frozen**

"Mom, I'm serious. You can't keep the house."

I stop short on the last step of the stairs, clutching my hand hard around the rail when I hear the voice. It's Monday morning, and no school for me today. Maggie told me yesterday I don't have to go, and I took the offer gratefully. I have slept badly since Friday, when everything happened, and I think I need a day off. Sitting in class trying to concentrate would be hell when all I can think of is Sam and what will happen next, but now I almost wish I was in school, not being able to listen to this. The conversation is apparently not for my ears even if I can't help but overhear it.

I don't hear Maggie's answer, though, only her daughters response to it.

"I know that. But it's too big for you. I want you closer, too. I can't keep my eye on you if you live all the way down here. I want you to move in with us."

My heart starts to pound faster. Slowly I let go of the rail and pad through the hallway, closer to the open kitchen door.

"I don't know, Dorothy." Maggie sounds tired. "Let me think about it for a while."

"Yes, of course. But you know I can't stay for long. Robert and the kids need me at home."

I hear a cupboard being opened and closed.

"You know I have responsibilities too," Maggie says, and then I hear a deep sigh.

"God, Mom. We just lost Dad. I'm sure they would understand if you can't -"

"Dorothy, please," Maggie interrupts her. "Where would he go if I didn't take care of him?"

"You have to think about yourself too. And me. We're the only ones left now."

I can't go into the kitchen. Not now. I turn around, and as quietly as I can, I sneak up the stairs again, feeling numb.

xXx

Ms. West comes by in the afternoon. I am the one opening the door when she rings at the door bell, and my stomach drops a bit when I see who stands on the porch. I don't know what she's doing here, but then it hits me that maybe Maggie called her to ask her to come and get me. Nervously I say hi, shifting my feet uncomfortably.

"Hello, Ponyboy," Ms. West says without a smile. "I wonder if Mrs. Taylor is able to see me?"

"Um, I don't know." I look over my shoulder, thinking hopefully that maybe Maggie didn't call her after all, because then Ms. West wouldn't have asked that.

Dorothy Hicks comes out into the hallway from the kitchen, frowning as she walks towards us. I take a step back and let her take my place at the door.

"I'm Mrs. Taylor's daughter," she says a bit suspiciously to Ms. West, making the gap in the door a few inches smaller. "Are you a friend of my mother?"

"I'm Ms. West, Ponyboy's social worker."

"Oh, I see."

Ms. West's face is serious. "I know it's probably not a good time, but I need to speak with Mrs. Taylor."

Mrs. Hicks only hesitates for a few seconds. "I guess that will be all right. Ponyboy can show you to the living room, and I will go and get my mother."

She turns around and walks through the hallway and up the stairs, and I lean my back against the wall as Ms. West hangs up her coat.

"This way," I say when she's done, almost forgetting that she has been here a few times before and already knows what the house looks like. But she doesn't say anything, just picks up her portfolio from where she put it on the floor and follows me.

I gesture to the couch and she sits down. I do too, as far away from her as possible at the other end of it. It's always so awkward meeting her. I really dislike her, hate her even. Every time I see her, she just screws up my life.

Maggie and Mrs. Hicks appear in the doorway, and Ms. West stands up with a solemn expression.

"I heard about Mr. Taylor," she says. "My deepest condolences."

Maggie sits down in the armchair, and her daughter stops beside it, with a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you," Maggie says softly to Ms. West.

"I'm so very sorry to come by today and disturb you in your grief, but I have a duty towards Ponyboy. Every change in his environment needs an investigation. It can't wait, I'm afraid."

Maggie nods. "I understand."

Ms. West sits down again and opens her portfolio. I feel Mrs. Hicks eyes on me, but then she turns to Ms. West, who just puts my folder on the coffee table.

"I want to take my mother with me to my home in California. I don't know if that changes Ponyboy's position in my mother's care."

I glance at Maggie, who notices me looking at her.

"You are very welcome to come with us," she says, and I stiffen immediately. I didn't even know she had decided to move already, she hasn't told me any of it. And I going with her? I don't want that! I need to stay in Oklahoma; I need to stay close to my brothers -

"Well, that is not an option, I'm afraid," Ms. West answers before I have the time to protest. "Ponyboy can't move out of the state."

I let out a breath I wasn't aware that I was holding in. But I'm not relieved. I can't believe that she can do this to me. She could at least have told me, letting me prepare or something. What if Ms. West says I have to go with her immediately? Leave the living room and go upstairs to start packing? I have to force myself to not start yelling at them. It never ends, does it - this is just _crap_, all of it. I hate the state and Ms. West, I hate Sam and Dorothy and Maggie, I hate that when I finally found something that was almost as good as home, it will be taken away from me too.

To make it even worse, they start to discuss me over my head, like I'm not even here. Mostly it's Mrs. Hicks, chosing words that sound like she cares about what will happen to me, but I think that she doesn't. Why else would she make sure Maggie moves with her to California? If she cared, she wouldn't have done that.

I refuse to look at any of them, just stare down at the floor or on my hands, or on Sam's pipe that still lies on the table, just as he left it. I try to tell myself that I don't care either. So what if I have to move again? It's only to July anyway. Because if we lose then, next time in court, I swear I will run away. I won't let them do things like this to me anymore.

xXx

The week that follows is just awful. There is Sam's funeral, and then the days after when Maggie tries to talk to me, but I don't want to listen. I tell her I'm busy with school, and then I sit in my room and study, or hang out with Jesse in his room. He hasn't asked me anything about my outburst, but for some reason, I tell him one day. I tell him about my parents and Johnny and Dally. I tell him what happened with the state, how I need to go home to my brothers. When I'm done, I tell him I don't want to talk about it anymore than I already have, and he accepts it with no further questions. I really like him as a friend.

I don't tell him that Maggie will move, though. I just can't bring myself to do it. I don't even tell Darry and Soda, not on the phone and not when they come and see me. I know that I should, that they will find out about it when it happens anyway, but I guess I'm still hoping she will change her mind. When I heard her talking to her daughter that time in the kitchen, it didn't sound like she wanted to move.

On Wednesday next week, when I come home from school, I find two airline-tickets on the kitchen table. I look around, but when I don't see anyone else around, I take a peek at them. They're dated to next Monday, from Oklahoma to California.

I sink down on a kitchen chair.

xXx

I just pick in my food that night. Maggie doesn't say much, and I'm all quiet too. Only Mrs. Hicks seems to not be able to shut up. She places another sweet potato on her plate from the bowl on the table.

"I know this can seem hard for you, but it's maybe for the best," she says while she cuts it up with her fork and knife. She tries to meet my gaze, but I refuse to let her.

"I'm sure the boys home will be lovely. Then you can live with boys in your own age, and that is what you are used to, isn't it? It will be like summer camp all year-long."

My stomach makes a turn. Boys home? No one has said that I'm going to a boys home.

"Dorothy," Maggie finally says, and her tone seems to be enough for her daughter to get the hint, because she finally clamps her mouth shut too. But she keeps giving me these glances.

Boys home. I don't want to go there, the other boys home still in my mind, even though it was over a year ago I was brought there. But I remember the fence and the locked gate and doors -

but the house Ms. West stops in front of on Friday evening after she has come to get me looks nothing like it. It's just a normal house on a normal street, and I stare at the yellow two-story building, thinking that maybe it is another foster family after all. But then I see the sign next to the door.

_Oklahoma City State Home For Boys_

_Established by Leland Conrad _

_Open since 1942_

Ms. West stops the car and looks at me in the backseat. I pick at the door handle without opening it.

"I don't want to live here," I suddenly hear myself blurt, and I cringe when I hear how whiny and young I sound.

"Don't be ridiculous," Ms. West says, a bit annoyed. "This is a great home for boys, and you don't have to change school again."

"Why can't I go home?" I mutter. I thought I said it quietly, but apparently she heard me anyway.

"You know why you can't go home, Ponyboy," she says.

I raise my gaze and look through the windscreen again. It's too early in the spring, only the beginning of March, but the garden looks well-kept; the paintings on the house must have been done recently, and I don't know, I guess it seems nice. I still don't want to even leave the car.

"I know that this past year has been difficult for you," Ms. West suddenly admits a bit unwillingly. "But what has happened has been out of my hands. I still believe I can find a family for you, so this might only be temporary."

I want to tell her I don't _care_, that the only good enough family she can find for me would be my brothers. But I don't say anything; instead I just open the car door and step outside, to get away from her. If I go inside, maybe she will leave soon. I can't even stand looking at her right now.

I grab my suitcase from the trunk without being asked. I hate that bag. I hate the stuff that is in it, the only things remaining from home are my books. My old clothes have been replaced over the year, and even if the new ones are just common jeans and t-shirts and shirts I like to wear, they are wrong. Maggie bought me most of my new ones, but my old ones had mostly been bought by Mom and used by Soda before. It's like I have lost pieces of them too, together with the clothes.

As we walk up to the front door, I get even more moody. I know I will hate this place. I will hate to live here, and I will hate to leave it for another foster home.

I see Ms. West glancing at me. I hope she feels bad; she looks a bit like she does. She knows she has failed me. Somehow I think she won't give up because of that. She will find me a place, a new family that will be great, and then tell me she told me so. She needs evidence that she made the right decision, giving me a perfect family, because I think deep down she knows she's wrong. Mr. Parker said so too - the state will never admit their mistakes.

A woman about my mom's age meet us at the door. She tells me her name and extends her hand, but I pretend not to notice. I just stare at the wall, until Ms. West taps my arm.

"Come on, Ponyboy. Don't you want to see how the house looks like?"

It's the last thing I want to do, but I guess I have no choice. So I follow her inside to what will be my new home, but for how long I don't know.

xXx

The boy I have to share a room with is the youngest of them, just turning thirteen and not even in High school yet. I dump my suitcase on the floor and sit down on my new bed, glaring down at the carpet. The mattress is too hard. There are no sheets on it either; they lie in a pile at the foot end of the bed.

"We have to make our own beds," the boy tells me. I know he said his name before; it was Dean or Dan or something. "And you can't make it messy in here."

"Why would I make it messy?" I snap, and he flinches visibly. I don't say sorry, though, just clench my hands in my lap, noticing him staring at them like I would fly up and hit him. I try to relax, but it's too hard.

The boy sighs and walks warily up to his desk and sits down. I see him pick out a school book from a bag on the floor, and then he starts studying or something, throwing glances at me the whole time. I don't say anything; I don't even move.

I think half an hour passes at least, with the only sound in the room from his pen against the paper as he writes. A sudden knock on the door makes us both jump, and he drops his pen. It rolls over the edge of the desk and hits the floor.

Another boy in my age sticks in his head. "Dinner!" he announces loudly and then disappears again.

Dean, or whatever his name was, stands up immediately and walks to the door. With a hand on the knob, he turns to face me.

"You comin'?"

He waits for my response, but when he doesn't get it, he just leaves.

It takes another ten minutes before the door opens again. This time it's a man in his fifties, almost bald but with a trimmed beard.

"It's dinnertime, Ponyboy," he says, and I wonder how he knows my name even though it's the first time I've seen him. But I guess they all knew I would come here, even before I knew it myself.

"I ain't hungry," I mumble.

"Well, it doesn't matter if you're hungry or not. Here we all sit at the table when it's time to eat. If you don't want any food, that's fine with me. I'm not the one going to bed with an empty stomach."

I put my hands down on the mattress, planning to get up, but it's like my body won't obey me.

"Come on, now," he says, but it's not impatiently. He waits a few minutes, then goes and sits down on Dean's bed, opposite me. I feel him looking at me across the floor, and finally I raise my gaze to meet his.

"I know it's hard, coming to a new place like this," he says. "Most of the kids that come to us have had a hard time before moving here, but I will believe most of them like it here. We give them a new chance."

I just breathe. In and out. It's stocking up inside me, everything. I miss Soda and Darry; I miss Mom and Dad, I miss Sam. It's all their fault, this. If Mom and Dad hadn't gone out that night, or if Darry didn't hit me so I had to write that stupid theme for school... if Sam hadn't died. So many _if's_.

But it's not their fault. It's only mine. Maybe I deserve what has happened. I guess in a way, it was my fault Bob and Johnny and Dally died, and this is my punishment for it.

"Ponyboy?"

"Yeah but I don't need a new chance," I mutter. "I just want to go home."

"Go home to what?" He asks it as if he's genuinely interested, but I don't answer.

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to come with me to the dining room now. We have rules here, and it's important we all follow them." He rises again, and then waits. "Come on, now."

I glare at him while I rise too, and then I follow him, with my hands down into my pockets, thinking that everyone and their rules just can go to hell.

xXx

There are six bedrooms in the house, four for the boys living here, two for the staff that sleeps over at night. There's a living room, a kitchen and a dining room. It doesn't really look like a boys home, not at all like the first one I lived in - this is more like a regular home, like it's a family living here. And when I observe the others, it's like they think so too.

Everyone talks at the table, but is polite, and waits for their turn to speak about what happened in school or at football practice or discussing something they find interesting. I think they are all tricked. They should know this isn't a _family_, they can pretend all they want but it's not real. Any day they will be thrown out, forced to move. But they chew down their food as it's all normal sitting here by the large table in the dining room, like they don't care that they have been taken away by the state. I watch them as I press my fork down into the mashed potatoes.

"Are you not hungry, Ponyboy?" the woman suddenly asks me, and I look up, realizing all the others are finished while I haven't even started eating yet. I push my plate away and lean back in my chair. The woman glances at the man with the beard, but he ignores me, only puts the palms of his hands down at the table top.

"Who has dishwashing duty tonight? William? Gary?"

"Hey man, not me!" a blond guy protests. "It's Eddie's turn."

The largest guy at the table peeks up under his long hair. He almost looks to be about Darry's age, but I know he can only be seventeen - at eighteen, you don't stay any longer.

"I did it yesterday," he says.

"Well, it ain't me," the blond says again, but the woman checks some list and it appears to be him, and he groans loudly as he rises and starts to pick away the plates.

As soon as I can, I get up and go and find my room again. I search my things for my cigarettes, and not knowing if I'm allowed to smoke or even go outside, I make my way to the bathroom. I lock the door behind me, and then reach over the bathtub to open up the window, before sitting down on the white porcelain in the tub. But smoking doesn't help this time either - it doesn't make me feel any better.

Worse is when I think about that I still haven't talked to Darry and Soda about me moving. They think I still live at Maggie's, and they will probably call there tonight. I feel nauseous. She will tell them I have known for two weeks that I couldn't stay.

I put the cigarette butt down the drain of the bathtub, but I sit frozen like again. I don't want to move. I don't want to be here and I can't cry about it, I just feel this... rage. I have never been this angry. I wish... I don't know what I wish. That I could smack someone right in the face, maybe. It seems to work for a lot of people - it worked for Dally, it works for the Socs, Steve sometimes, Tim Shepard always. Even Soda. I have seen him hit people out of anger, how it blows out the steam that is inside him.

But I can't fight. I can't fight this, the state, how they move me around like I'm some kind of thing. Always new people, I don't even know if I remember their names anymore. I don't want this. It's only the beginning of March, and July is too far away, but I really can't do this anymore.

xXx

I finally drag myself out from the bathroom. Quietly, I search the house for the staff, and some of the other boys look at me as I walk past them, but we all mostly just ignore each other. I don't want to get to know them, and I'm sure they don't care who I am either. Why would they?

I finally find the man in some kind of office between the hall and the kitchen. Stopping in the doorway, I see him sitting by a small desk crammed with papers, and the shelves on the wall over him is filled with folders. There is a black phone next to his left hand. I wait for him to look up and see me, but when he doesn't, I tap the door frame lightly.

"Hey, Ponyboy," he says, smiling when he notices me. "Can I help you?"

"I, um, I need to make a phone call."

The chair squeaks a little as he leans back in it, with an apologetic expression in his face. "I'm sorry, but no phone calls tonight, it's too late for that. You will have to wait until tomorrow, I'm afraid."

His words could have hurt me, but I already figured, I think. Besides, I have decided to not let anything hurt me anymore. So I strain myself, straightening my back and think it doesn't matter. I just don't want Darry and Soda to worry, so I frown at him because of them.

"But I have to call tonight," I say. "My brothers don't know I'm here."

"I'm sure they -"

"They don't! No one ever tells them anythin'!"

He looks a bit concerned now. "Then I guess there is a reason for that."

"It ain't no reason others than that the state is stupid," I mutter. "This is stupid. Everythin'!"

He studies me with narrowed eyes, and I shrink back a bit. I don't know him. I don't know anyone. I thought I knew Maggie but apparently not. She cried when we said good-bye, and she hugged me hard, but she didn't _have_ to move. She did it anyway.

Maybe I don't even know my brothers, I mean, if they really wanted me to come home, shouldn't I be home already? Suddenly I start to doubt everyone. Like the rest of the gang, Steve and Two-Bit. Sure they come along to visit me, but not every time. If they wanted to see me, they would have come every week.

I shake my head to get rid of my thoughts. I know they aren't true. I _know_.

"This place is stupid?" the man asks, but his voice is still gentle. It's not like he's trying to question me, but I watch him suspiciously anyway.

"Yeah," I say. "I don't belong here."

"And where do you think you belong?"

I cross my arms, wondering what he means.

He rises slightly and stretches up to the shelves to pick down a folder before sitting down again. Mine, I recognize.

"You have been in foster care for about a year and a half," he says, eyeing the papers.

"That's wrong."

He looks a bit perplexed. "It's wrong?"

I shake my head, frustrated. "No. I mean it's wrong that I'm in foster care."

"And that's why the state, and this boys home, are stupid?"

I don't answer. I just bite my tongue, knowing I have said too much already. I can't trust anyone, I should have learned my lesson a long time ago.

The man sighs. He looks down on the papers again, then up at me.

"I'm very strict with the rules around here, or it wouldn't work. If one can break a rule, why can't everyone? But I can make an exception - _once _- okay? I'll give you five minutes with the phone, but that's it."

He gets up again, and when he leaves, he pats my shoulder. I watch him go, and then I almost feel dizzy when I sit down in his chair. I reach out my hand, picking up the receiver. I can't believe he let me call them anyway.

I just wish I knew what to say to them.

* * *

_Longest chapter yet... sorry, it seems like I can't make them shorter. Thank you so much for reading! I'm so glad that you do :)  
_


	21. Shattered Glass

**On a Long Road**

**21. Shattered Glass **

It's Soda who answers the phone. He doesn't sound surprised when he hears that it's me - I usually call this time of day - but ever since I told him about Sam, he always speaks so carefully, like he's bracing himself for bad news. I don't know if I can handle his reaction to them right now, though; he's always reacting so strongly. Darry will probably stay calmer, so maybe I should break the news to him instead.

Maybe.

I put my elbow on the desk and lean my forehead in my hand. There's a dull pain in there, but I ignore it.

"Darry home?" I ask, before I can change my mind. "I need to talk to him."

"_Huh_?" Soda says, something surprised in his tone. "_Yeah ... yeah, he is. Sure. Um. Hold on._"

I close my eyes briefly, knowing that I hurt him. He must wonder why I didn't want to speak with him. I hear whispers in the background, and then Darry is on the phone.

"_Ponyboy_?" he says tense, already sensing something is wrong. "_What happened_?"

I tell him.

If I had hoped for him to keep his calm afterwards, I had nothing for it. I don't think I have ever heard him this mad before, letting out this long tirade of harsh words and curses. I hear Soda in the background, asking frantically what's going on, and Darry disappears from my ear for a moment, to tell Soda too, I guess.

"_That woman_!" Darry swears half a minute later, back in the receiver again. I know we all remember Maggie's words, how she said she was going to keep me. I never should have trusted her, like I never should have trusted Mr. Syme. Still, I don't really think this is all her fault.

"Darry ..." I try, and but he just keeps going. I repeat his name until he finally calms down a bit, and then he sighs, resigned.

"_I sure hope they put you in a good place at least._"

So far I guess it seems okay; no one has hit me, or swore at me, and I have been left pretty much alone when I have wanted to. But I can't really tell after just a few hours.

"Yeah but I will probably not stay," I decide to warn him so they won't get this worked up next time too. "Ms. West talked about some other family."

"_Christ_!"

"It's okay," I say automatically. "I don't care." I almost feel like I have shut myself down. Like I don't feel anything anymore. Let them move me, then, if it humors them.

Soda is suddenly back on. I think he must have grabbed the phone right from Darry's hand, since he didn't say good-bye.

"_When can we come and see you_?" he bursts out, as if he has to hurry to ask before I disappear.

No one has told me about the rules for visitors.

"I don't know." I hold the receiver tighter. "I can ask."

"_I have to work a double shift tomorrow_," Soda says, sounding disappointed.

"You work every Saturday now?" I can't help but ask him. He never did before the state took me. Sometimes he might have taken some extra pass, but five days a week was really enough for someone his age. I'm scared his life will turn out to be like Darry's now; only work, never any fun, and all because of me. He's only eighteen, he shouldn't work this much. Darry shouldn't either.

My bad conscience screams at me to let them go. They could leave me here and fix up their lives, live like they were supposed to do if Mom and Dad hadn't died. But I can't. I'm too selfish - I don't want them to leave me here.

"_Hey, don't worry about me_," Soda says. "_I _-"

The man who allowed me to call comes back, and standing in the hallway he's giving me this look. I cringe, knowing the time is up.

"Soda, I have to go."

"_Just a couple of more minutes ..._"

I turn to the wall, lowering my voice. "I can't. They only gave me five minutes."

"_Shit. Okay. But we'll try to come down Sunday as usual. You can give us your address tomorrow, all right?_"

"Yeah, I will. Bye, Soda."

"_I love you, kiddo._"

xXx

Someone is sobbing. There is a whining sound, that soon turns to low, muffled screams. At first I just blink in the dark, dazed, thinking that it's me having another nightmare, but then I realize that it's not. I didn't dream tonight.

"No ..." someone moans, and I sit up, looking over to the other bed. I don't know what to do. This feels so odd, it was always me having a nightmare before, not someone else. I don't know if I should walk over there, try to wake him up, or -

"Stop it ..." he whimpers. "No!"

I watch him as he trashes, and then he suddenly bolts up to sit, gasping for air. I quickly lie down again and drag the cover up over me, peeking at him over the edge of it. I see him rub his hands over his eyes, pushing back his hair. He sniffs once, and then he glances over at my direction. I close my eyes, but I don't think he saw me watching him; it's too dark in here.

When I look up again, he has lied down. He lies turned to the wall, with his back at me, breathing unevenly. I'm sure he's awake, but I can't find anything to say even though I try.

xXx

Next time I wake up by an alarm instead. Groaning, I put an arm over my eyes for a moment, as the room suddenly goes light. I quickly throw a glance across the room and see Dean turn off the clock on his nightstand, then climbing out of his bed.

He avoids my gaze. Maybe he's embarrassed over what happened tonight, maybe he knows that I heard him crying because of a nightmare. I guess I could tell him that I use to dream too, but I can't. I think it's embarrassing too.

Dean quietly picks out some clothes from his closet, then leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Sometimes I think he's afraid of me, but I don't know why. I'm not that much bigger than him, even though I have grown some inches this past year. But I guess I would win if it came to fighting - he seems way too insecure to really know how to hit someone back.

Something suddenly pierces my heart. There is something in Dean that is familiar. Like I know his type; that I have met someone like him before. Then it hits me. I know they look totally different, but I think he reminds me a bit of Johnny. But Johnny could fight, that's not it ... it must be the eyes. That scared look. Johnny was better at hiding it, though, but I could always see something in them. Just like I can in Dean's eyes.

I slowly sit up. I have no idea what time it is, but it's Saturday, so I can't figure out why he had an alarm on. It's not like we have to rush to school or anything.

The thought of school almost makes me shudder. I know Ms. West thinks it's a good thing I don't have to switch school's again, but I think I would have rather done it. Everyone I know will think that Maggie didn't want me anymore. I guess they thought that I'm some abandoned kid even before this - only Jesse knows the truth - and now they will believe it even more. I hate being a foster kid, but the boys home is much worse than living with a family. It's like a last resort, where they place anyone who doesn't fit in anywhere else.

I lie down again and drag the cover over my head, closing my eyes. I won't get up.

I must have fallen asleep again, because I don't hear when someone walks into the room, but I feel them put a hand on my shoulder and shake it lightly.

"Soda, go away!" I mumble, before I realize that the name is wrong. I turn around. Dean takes a step back, dressed now.

"Um, they told me to come and get you," he says, biting his lip. "For breakfast."

"What time is it?" I sigh.

"A quarter past eight."

I give him a sharp look. "It's _Saturday_," I tell him, like he didn't know.

"Breakfast's served at eight o'clock on weekends," he mumbles, shrinking back even more to sag against the door. He's avoiding my eyes as I frown.

"Why?" I ask, but he just shrugs weakly. He looks like he's ready to bolt out of the room at any time now. Suddenly I feel bad. I know it's not his rules, and not his fault that I'm here. Still, I'm not hungry. I guess I should be since I hardly ate anything yesterday either, but I'm just not.

"Can't I eat later?"

"They said you have to come now," he says nervously. "You're already late."

"Fine," I grumble, and he looks relieved. He quickly leaves the room again, and I get up and dress myself before going to the bathroom. I use the toilet, and then I stand in front of the mirror, greasing my hair back. It looks like someone else is staring back at me. I blink, and the boy blinks too, but his eyes are all different from how mine used to be. Kind of empty.

I walk down the stairs. When I come to the dining room, everyone is already eating. The man from yesterday is there too, but there's another woman this time, older, and she gives me a sour expression.

"Try to be on time from now on," she says. "We can't have anyone come and go as they please." She puts a plate on the table in front of the only empty chair. I hesitate for a moment, before sitting down. It feels like they all stare at me, but when I look around, no one does. Only Dean, who sits opposite of me, but he averts his gaze as soon as my eyes meet his.

I eat an egg and half of my ham sandwich, and drink some milk, wishing it had been chocolate milk. I really miss our breakfasts at home. Soda's food. My throat clamps up and I drop the sandwich - I can't eat anymore.

The guy named William cleans the table afterwards, and the man from yesterday, Mike, tells me to come with him to the office. I do, since I don't seem to have any choice, and somehow he has managed to cram another chair into the tiny space. He tells me to sit, and then he closes the door to give us privacy.

"How do you feel now after the first night?" he asks me.

There is only one word for strangers. "Fine," I say shortly.

He nods. "What I have been told is that you will probably not be staying with us for long. Ms. West was very certain that she will find another foster family for you."

The walls almost creep closer. "Okay," I mutter, trying to ignore the claustrophobic feeling washing over me.

"I still need to inform you about the rules here. As long as you are here, you need to follow them, and you also need to do your chores." He suddenly cracks a smile. "Don't look scared, Ponyboy. It's not as hard as it sounds. We try to be like a close family here, but it means we all have to put some effort in trying to make everyone comfortable. We take turns with dishwashing, cleaning and laundry duty. You have to go to go to school and go straight home after to do your homework. We eat all the meals together at the table." He looks at me as if he waits for an answer.

"Okay," I mutter again.

"It will be okay," he says gently, and I stiffen. I really must learn to hide my emotions a bit better.

The weekend passes slowly. I'm not allowed to have any visitors yet, the sour woman tells me, and I hide in my room a lot after that, sulking. The reason for it seems useless; they want me to feel more at home before I can see anyone from my family. Like I would ever feel at home here.

I don't want to get to know the other guys, but two of them, Randall and Hank, try to talk to me several times. On Sunday evening I give in, mostly to have something to do and not think of my brothers so much, and I go with them for a walk around the neighborhood. It's not as nice as the one I left, but it's decent. Better than the East side in Tulsa but still so much worse. I really miss home.

"How is it sharing a room with wimpy-boy?" Randall asks me, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose.

I stare at a car that looks a bit like Steve's driving past us. "Um, what?"

"Dean," Hank explains unnecessary. "He's such a crybaby."

"He's okay," I say defensively, but the two of them look at each other and laugh. I'm glad when we're inside the house again.

xXx

"I thought you moved," Jesse says at lunch the next day. He came to find me at my usual spot in the school yard, and he sits down next to me without asking. I guess my trying to avoid him wasn't that successful; I really should have picked another spot. It's just that there is not many places where I can be alone around here, out of the eyesight of my teachers when I want to smoke.

"Maggie moved," I answer quietly, staring at the cigarette clamped between my fingers. I like how it glows. "It doesn't matter."

"Yeah I saw that she moved," he says. "I thought you went with her."

"Why would I do that? She moved to her daughter in California," I snap, then take a long drag on my cigarette to calm down. But Jesse is Jesse as usual.

"Where do you live now, then?" he asks.

"I don't know the address," I avoid the question.

"In another foster home?"

"Can you stop talkin' to me?" I mumble, hoping he will get the message and leave me alone. Unfortunately, he doesn't.

"What?"

I turn my head to face him. "Can you fuckin' _stop talkin_' to me?" I say higher, almost hollering. "God, you're so fuckin' annoying!"

A hurt look covers his face. I don't understand why he tries so hard; I would have given up on me a long time ago.

"I'm just trying to be nice here. I thought we were friends."

"We ain't friends," I say harshly, not sure I really mean it, but he gives me a long look before he sighs.

"Fine, then." He rises, looking down at me, but I stare down at the grass instead. "Have a nice life, I guess," he mumbles.

I look up to watch him go, not regretting my behavior at all. I tell myself that I don't want people in my life anymore. That it's only good that he left. I will probably have to leave soon anyway, I shouldn't even try to get attached, to anyone.

xXx

I sit on my bed with a textbook in my lap, trying to do my homework, when Dean and I suddenly hear screams from downstairs. He looks at me, turning all pale. I already know he hates fights - it has happened a few times since I got here that some of the guys have started a rough argument, or tried to push each other around a bit. There is a lot of teasing too. Nothing serious has happened, though, but Dean always seems so frightened when people don't get along.

"It's probably just Hank and William again," I say, and he nods quickly, but I can see that his hands are shaking. Then we hear Mike's voice, probably breaking the two of them up before it gets worse.

"I just hate it when they scream like that," Dean says lowly, hunching over in his seat by the desk. He looks so miserable I can't ignore it.

"They stopped now," I try to comfort him. "Don't worry."

"Yeah," he agrees. He's quiet for a little while, and I return to my book, just to get interrupted again. "What if they hurt each other, then?"

I shake my head. "They won't. Mike and Paul are workin' today, they wouldn't let them."

Dean bites his lip. "People can hurt each other even if adults are there."

I close my book and look at him, and he blushes hard, fiddeling with his pen.

He has become more comfortable around me as the days pass. It's not like he talks much, but at least he doesn't flinch just because I say something anymore. I do my best to keep calm around him, to not startle him. I don't know why I feel like I have to protect him. Maybe it's because of Johnny. Maybe because of myself.

"Mike said the other day that you might leave," he suddenly says. "How come? You just got here."

I snort, toss away my book and stretch out my legs. "It's just my social worker," I say sarcastically. "She likes to move me around."

"But, um, you don't wanna leave, do you?"

"I don't care, I'm goin' home soon anyway." I stare at my knees, but look back at him when he makes a little sound. He looks horrified all of a sudden.

"They can't do that!" he blurts, wide-eyed.

"What?"

"I - I mean ... I mean it ain't good, is it?"

"What ain't good?"

"Goin' ... goin' home. I wouldn't want that. It's much better here. You think they ... I mean, will they force me to go home too?" He puts his hands between his knees, as if to stop them from shaking. I swing my legs over the bedside and put my feet on the floor to face him.

"It ain't like that!" I hurry to say. "I _want _to go home, okay? I want to live with my brothers. They're good, they wouldn't hurt me."

"They wouldn't?"

"No," I say with emphasis. "Don't worry about it, okay? The state won't let you go home if you don't want to."

He nods, but I can see that he's still scared. It makes me wonder once again what really happened to him in the past.

xXx

"Why can't I see my brothers?" I cross my arms, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. I have been here a week and a half already, with only three phone calls allowed, and Paul, a thirty year old staff member, just told me that Darry and Soda can't come this weekend either. I don't know how to react to it. It's not the first time someone has told me that, but this time it feels different. I don't know why.

Paul curls his hands around his coffee cup. "I told you why, Ponyboy. We want you to adjust to this place a bit better before seeing anyone from home. I know it can seem harsh, but it's only for your own good."

"But you know I ain't stayin' anyway!"

He sighs and shakes his head. "You don't know that. It can take a long time to find a foster home for someone your age, especially with your background of moving around."

I feel so frustrated. I don't understand either - it feels like I get punished for things that is not even my fault. All I want to do is see my brothers, I don't care about anything else, so why can't I? What if I never _adjust_ the way they want me to? Will I never see them, then?

"Look, I'm just asking you to try a bit more, okay? I know you do good in school, and you do your chores without any nagging, but try to communicate a bit better. Don't hide up in your room all the time."

"Dean does it," I mutter.

Paul's eyes narrow. "You know it's a bit special with Dean, Ponyboy."

Of course _he_ is special. I bet they would let him see his brothers, if he had any. I drop my arms, and without thinking, I turn around and kick at the door frame. Immediately, Paul is up on his feet.

"Come on, Ponyboy. Don't be like that."

"I hate it here!" I burst out, not able to hold it in. Tears prick my eyes.

"I know you do, but you could give it a chance. Maybe you would get pleasantly surprised." He's at my side now, grabbing my arm, but he holds it gentle. "Go upstairs now and calm down. We're playing games tonight, and I want you to participate, okay? Maybe I will change my mind if you do."

I drag myself loose from his grip and he lets me. It feels like he's blackmailing me. Do this, and I'll let you do that. It's ridiculous. I start to get angry. I go to the stairs and walk up to the second floor, but outside mine and Dean's room I hesitate with my hand on the doorknob. I can't go in there. I need to be alone.

I go to the bathroom instead, and when I have locked the door I'm breathing hard, like I have been running. I walk up to the sink and turn on the cold water, washing my face, but it doesn't help. All I feel is this anger.

I stare into the mirror. I don't know who I'm seeing. I don't know who I am anymore. Maybe I'm not my parents son, my brothers brother. Maybe I'm no one. Suddenly I can't stand looking at myself. I just want the picture to disappear, so I curl my hand into a fist, and then I punch.

The sound of breaking glass echoes loudly in the room. Shards of the broken mirror rain down over the sink, down to the floor. I gasp over the pain, holding my wrist with the other hand. There is blood on my knuckles, and I take staggered steps backwards, until my back hits the wall. What did I do? I stare wide-eyed.

"Who's in there?" Someone tries the door handle, knocking on the door, and I glance at it. "Ponyboy?"

It's Paul.

"Go away!" I choke out. "Leave me alone!"

"Open the door!" he demands. "Mike!" he calls next. "Get the screwdriver and come upstairs."

I rub my eyes, not until now noticing my face is all wet. Water or tears? I don't know.

I hear someone trying to turn the lock around. I don't want them to come inside, don't want to face them. I kick hard at the trashcan. The metal buckles, and I watch it spill its contents over the floor as it tips over, before smashing into the bathtub.

I'm thinking of the possibility of climbing out through the window since I can't use the door when they stand on the other side, when suddenly someone grabs both my upper arms from behind.

"Stop it! Calm down now!" Paul says through gritted teeth, holding me hard as I tug.

"Let me go!"

"Not until you have calmed down." He moves his hands down to my wrists, holding me so tight I can't move. "Let's go to your room," he says, and drags me out of the bathroom. Some of the guys stand in the hallway outside, gawking at me, and I glare at them as we pass. Mike is holding them back, but I see Hank laughing.

"Way to go, Pony," he says after managing to take a peek into the bathroom.

Paul drags me into my room, telling a terrified looking Dean to leave, and he does. Then Paul throws me down at my bed, telling me to sit still. I scoot closer to the wall, hiding my face in my hands. The anger is slowly leaving me, and all I feel so bad for what I did. I want Soda. I need Soda here with me.

"What was that about?" Paul says angrily. "That is not the way we deal with our problems here."

I don't answer him, just pushes my fingers deeper into my eyes. Suddenly, he grips my hands again and pries them away.

"Where are you hurt? You have blood all over your face."

"It's just my hand," I mumble, so embarrassed now, and he holds it tight as he inspects the damage.

"We're going to the hospital, in case you need stitches," he decides quickly.

"Everything okay?" Mike asks from the doorway, and Paul lets go of me. I curl up, not listening to them as they speak in low voices. Paul comes back, giving me a wet cloth to wash the blood off my face, then handing me a dry one to wrap around my hand.

"Come on, kid."

I stand up on shaky legs, to follow him downstairs. He keeps his hand on my shoulder all the way until we get out to the car, and then he opens the passenger door for me. I dip my head and climb inside.

The car ride is quiet. I stare out through the window, both wishing he will say something and continue to keep quiet. I wonder if this will give me any trouble. I shouldn't have done what I did, I know that. It was stupid.

My hand is hurting, but I don't need stitches. The nurse just clean the wounds and patches me up, telling me to take care with a smile. I don't answer her, just walk out with Paul again. He stops me suddenly, as soon as we reach the parking lot.

"Never do something like that again," he says, but he sounds worried now, not mad. "Come talk if you feel that something is troubling you, okay? Then we can help you."

I nod, staring down at my shoes, already knowing it's a lie. I have already tried that, to talk to people. The problem is that they never care to listen.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading! Please review :) I really appreciate to hear your thoughts.  
_


	22. The Date

**On a Long Road**

**22. The Date**

Paul let me off the hook pretty easily, but Mike is another matter. When Paul and I come back to the house, Mike gestures for me to follow him. He takes me to the office, and then sits me down quietly, facing me. I try to look him in the eyes at first, but then it gets too uncomfortable. My gaze swerves, and he starts talking.

"How's your hand?"

I look down at it, then shrug. I guess I was kind of lucky. I remember when Soda cut himself those months ago, and the scar he has now. The nurse told me I probably won't have noticeable scars as soon as I'm healed up; the wounds are too shallow for that. It still hurts, though, but I kind of like it. I can focus on that.

"It took about half an hour to clean up in the bathroom after you," Mike says.

I don't say anything, just wait for him to start yelling at me. I know I messed up.

"Will you tell me what happened?"

A bit surprised by his gentle tone, I raise my gaze again.

"You don't seem to be the vandalising type," he continues. He leans his head a bit to the side, as if he's trying to study me closer. "I would rather say smart and quiet. So ... ?"

"I ..." I clear my throat, and try again. "I got angry."

"Because?"

I frown. "You know why."

"I would rather hear you say it. It's a good thing to express your feelings."

Here we go again. Just like Paul, Mike talks about _talking_, but I know it won't matter if I do it or not. Maybe they are better than Ms. West, but they won't go against their rules just because I tell them something. My foot jitters slightly and I sigh.

"I don't want to live here."

"Hm. And you thought that smashing the mirror would make us kick you out?"

I feel myself go red. "No."

"You thought it would be better here for you if you destroyed something?"

"No!" I repeat, harsher. "I didn't think. I just wanted to-" I interrupt myself.

He seems to wait patiently for me to continue, but I clamp my mouth shut this time. It feels like forever until he finally speaks again.

"What did you want to do?"

"Nothin'! I just want to see my brothers but you won't let me."

"If you want that, it's not a good thing to act like you did tonight."

He starts making me angry again. I clench my hands into fists, feel how the wounds start to hurt even more. The patches drag at my skin.

"Yeah?" I snap. "You won't let me see them anyway so what's the fuckin' matter?"

"Don't use that language."

I get tears in my eyes, but this time it's not because I'm sad. I'm just so, so _frustrated_. I almost wish he would yell at me so I could yell back, but he just talks like this is a normal conversation. I don't understand what he wants from me.

He leans forward, with his elbows on his knees and his fingertips put together. "Okay, listen to me now, please. We have already told you our reasons. You have to understand that you're not going home to your brothers. Even if you won't stay here, you will go to a foster family instead. I agree that it can be a good thing meeting your own kind, but in your case, sometimes I think it will be better if you didn't for a while. You obviously have a big problem with adjusting. Just look at how many times you have moved from one family to another."

I gape, not believing he just said that.

"I know this last time was not your fault, but Ponyboy, if you think about it, I'm sure you agree with me that you haven't even tried to make it better for yourself."

I stand up so fast my chair almost tips over.

"Sit down."

"No!"

He rises too, and I shrink back.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says with a frown.

"I want to go to my room now." I cross my arms, turn my head to stare at the door. I refuse to even look at him.

"Just think about what I said. You have two more years until you turn eighteen. Don't spend those years being angry, that won't help you."

"Can I go?" I say shortly.

He sighs. "For the vandalism in the bathroom, you'll have to do some extra duties after your homework every day for a week."

"Fine."

"I know you're a good kid. Just try to be good to yourself too, okay? Give yourself a chance, Ponyboy."

He's quiet for so long I can't help but glance at him.

"Straight to bed," he tells me, and I nod, before finally slipping out of the room.

xXx

Dean stares at me with wide eyes as I enter our room. He sits on his bed, with his legs dragged up and a book resting on his knees.

"What?" I snap at him, and he quickly looks down again, making me feel bad. I rub my eyes with my left hand. "Sorry. I didn't mean it."

"It's ... it's okay."

I walk to sit down on my bedside, Mike's words swirling in my head. The only home I did adjust to was the Taylor's, and they let me have close contact with Darry and Soda - but according to Mike, the less contact the better. I don't understand him at all. This place suddenly seems much worse than it did in the beginning.

Irritated, I finger my patches, then I rip them off, throwing them on the floor. The wounds don't look so bad, the deepest running over the knuckle just above my forefinger. I scratch at it with my nails until it starts bleeding again, but stop when I hear something that almost sounds like a whimper. Looking up, I see that Dean has turned all pale.

"Can you stop doin' that?" he almost pleads, his gaze everywhere except on me and the blood.

"Sorry," I mutter again. I rise to go to the bathroom.

On the way there I meet Hank, who leans himself against the wall, grinning.

"Did ya get any punishment?"

I stop. "No."

He straightens his back, eyes glinting. "Hell you didn't. When William broke the window last year they were pissed." For some reason, this seems to amuse him. "Hey, man, you're drippin' blood on the floor," he suddenly says.

I quickly put the palm of my left hand under the right one.

"Shit." I move past him, quickly opening the door to the bathroom.

The room looks smaller without the mirror. I turn on the faucet and stick my hand under the running water, to wash off the blood. I'm glad the mirror is gone. I don't want to look myself in the face right now.

xXx

It's raining the day my brothers are finally allowed to come. I had wished for Two-Bit and Steve, too, but we couldn't push our luck. Next time, though. Then I will make sure to see them too.

It's Saturday, and I know both Darry and Soda had to take some time off from work, but I'm just glad that they did. Not seeing them for three weeks was awful.

Darry studies everything with a serious expression as I show them around. Soda has his arm slung around my shoulders, not really caring about the surroundings. Instead he keeps babbling, asking me questions how I feel and if the people are nice. I tell him they are, and it's not a lie. Not really. The only bad thing I can think of here are Mike's ideas of adjustment problems, but now he steps into the living room, all smiling, and extends his hand to Darry.

While they do a little small talk, I take Soda upstairs with me. I notice him glaring at Mike and I don't want him to make a scene or anything. I know Darry won't, even though he's mad too.

Most of the guys are out somewhere, but Dean huddles in our room, of course. I can't help but feel a bit irritated. I want to be alone with my brothers, but Mike don't want us to leave the house for some other stupid reason, and that leaves only this room.

"Hi," Soda says to Dean, who mumbles something inaudible, blushing hard and looking down. Soda turns to me with slightly raised eyebrows, and I shrug.

A couple of minutes later Darry joins us, and Dean quickly rises and slips out of the room, obviously too uncomfortable to stay with two strangers around.

"That's your roommate?" Soda says, sitting down on my bed.

I nod. "His name's Dean."

"He looked a little ... troubled."

I drag my sleeves down over my hands. I have made sure not to show them my hand. It has pretty much healed, but what I did is still visible.

"He reminds me of Johnny," I just say, and Soda throws a glance at the door, as if looking after him.

"No one's around anymore, Pony," Darry says seriously. "Talk to us."

"I think maybe he was abused or somethin' -"

"Not about that guy," Darry interrupts me. "About you. I want to know everything."

"I'm okay."

Soda looks at me sharply, not believing me one bit.

"Honest," I say, but I know it doesn't help.

"I ain't so sure about this place," he just says. "They have a fucked up reason for not lettin' you see us."

"I think I'll move next week anyway," I tell them. "Maybe it'll get better then."

Darry frowns. "Has anyone told you that?"

"I overheard Mike on the phone. I think he was talkin' to Ms. West."

Both my brothers make a face when I mention her.

"I can't make any sense out of this," Darry sighs. He sits down next to Soda on the bed. "I don't even know how many places you've lived in by now." He usually looks so old, but now it's almost the opposite. The confusion and devastation suddenly makes him look too young.

"There are only four months until my birthday," I say, even though it feels like ages. I don't even want to think that it can be a risk that we lose. We just have to win, and not only for my sake.

"We should have gone to court earlier," Soda says shortly. "Just look at you. Do you ever sleep, Pony?"

I could say the same thing about him. Darry too.

"You have nightmares?"

"No." I haven't had one since I lived with Maggie and Sam, but both my brothers look at me doubtfully. "I haven't!"

Soda scoots away from Darry, making a gap between them. "Come on, sit down," he says.

He doesn't have to beg me twice.

xXx

Dean's eyes are red, like he has been crying, but I pretend not to notice. I know he wouldn't want me to say anything about it.

"I wish you would stay," he says quietly, standing pressed in a corner of our room. He has his hands down into his pockets, his whole expression like an open book. Sometimes I just want to tell him not to be so vulnerable, but I can't. I just continue packing my suitcase. It was a bit torn even before all this, but now the zipper is almost broken. I really hope that the next time I pack it, it will be because I'm going home.

"They won't let me stay," I mumble, even though I haven't asked. I guess staying because Dean wants me to could be an option, but I just don't have the strength to care. And I wouldn't stay here forever, and then we would be split up anyway. This was never even supposed to be a friendship. Just like with me and Jesse. I have seen him around school and thought of apologizing, but now ... I'm leaving again. Just like I knew I would. There's no point in doing anything to keep a friend, really.

"I don't want to share a room with anyone else but you," Dean says miserable.

I look over my shoulder.

"S-sorry," he mumbles, but I don't know what for.

"It's gonna be okay," I tell him, trying to sound sure, but he knows. Life has been harsher to him than it has to me, no lies can trick him.

He nods, then quickly takes up one hand from his pocket and drags in over his eyes.

"Dean?"

"Mmm?"

"Talk to Paul. I mean, if your new roommate is ... um. You know he'll listen."

He takes a deep breath and stops crying. He still looks too young. "Yeah. I know."

I think this good-bye is one of the hardest I have ever done.

xXx

"Ponyboy, this is Mr. and Mrs. Davis."

The couple who want to be my new foster parents smile at me. He's a big man, more than six feet, but even though he's big he's not fat. She's smaller than him by several inches, with brown, curly hair and green eyes.

I clamp my mouth shut, and Ms. West puts a hand on my back. "He's a bit shy," she says, and I frown.

"That's understandable. Please, come inside." Mrs. Davis moves out of the way, and we walk into a bright hallway.

I'm back in the country again, but it's not a farm this time. Just a house lying in the middle of nowhere, a couple of miles from Oklahoma City. Ms. West seems to be very pleased - she's in a good mood. She told me on the way here that I probably won't have to move again - this time she knows she has found the right family for me. I don't agree with her. My right family is my brothers.

Two boys are sitting in the living room. One of them is awfully like his dad; almost as tall, almost as big, and his dark brown hair is just the same too. The other one is blonde, and his hair falls into his eyes, which watch me dully from his place on the couch.

"This is Joey and Aidan," Mrs. Davis says. "Joey is our biological son, and we have taken care of Aidan for ..." she hesitates, looking at her husband. "Is it six years now?"

"Seven."

"Right. Seven years. He's turning eighteen in August. We planned not to take another foster child until he moves out, but then we changed our minds." She smiles at me. "Ms. West told us you really need a permanent place to stay. We can provide it for you."

I don't say anything.

"Well, I'll go and make some coffee. Boys, why don't you show Ponyboy around?"

Joey rises, but Aidan just rolls his eyes and stays put.

I follow Joey through the house; he shows me a dining room next to the kitchen, the bathroom, and a bedroom with one single bed and a bunk bed.

"How old are you?" he suddenly asks me.

"Sixteen in July," I say, looking around the place. It's a small room, and obviously, we will share it. Joey sits down on the single bed.

"I'm sixteen in September," he says. "Dad's gonna take me out huntin' then."

I don't know how to answer that. I walk up to the window and glance out. A field with short grass stretches out for what seems like miles.

"He won't take you huntin' on your birthday."

I turn my head to look at him. Something seems off about him, but I don't know what it is. Maybe because he looks like he could be eighteen, but talks like someone much younger than he truly is.

"You have to go huntin' with your own dad but you can't 'cause I heard he's dead."

I feel how I stiffen.

"Your mom is dead too."

"Shut up."

"You can't talk to me like that," he grunts. "This is my house and my room."

"Fine. Take me to my room then," I say, even though I already know I will be sleeping in here. He points to the bunk bed.

"You sleep there, but it's my rules, okay?"

I sigh. This is not really a good time to start a fight.

We go back to the living room, but soon we're invited to the table in the dining room. Mrs. Davis smiles at me again.

"Did you boys get along well?" she says, and I nod.

Everyone drinks coffee except for me and Joey. I get chocolate milk, and it tastes like home. I really count down the days now. When Darry and Soda came to see me, we talked a bit about court, and Mr. Parker. He has turned our case into the courthouse now, that Darry will sue the state for the custody of me, accusing them for almost the same things they accused him for - neglect, not seeing to my needs, moving me around. All we have to do is wait for a date now, but Mr. Parker warned us that it can take some time. I will probably turn sixteen first, but that's a good thing, as he told us before. I'm still a minor then too, but it's different from being fourteen.

When Ms. West leaves, the same feelings of loneliness and nervousness hit me. I will never get used to this, even with how many times I have been left by now. And even though I hate her, she's a bit safe. At least I know her. This family, I don't know at all.

Mrs. Davis seems to be the nicest. She smiles all the time, and it reaches her eyes too. Mr. Davis has been kind so far, but he's so big he frightens me a bit. If he would hit me like Mr. Collins and Mr. James did ... I don't even want to think about it. That's why I chose to sneak up to Mrs. Davis while she stands with the dishes.

"Um, Mrs. Davis?"

"Yes, Ponyboy? Are you being called Ponyboy, or do you have a nickname you prefer?"

"Ponyboy's fine." I don't want her to call me Pony - that's only for my family and friends. "Um, I need to make a phone call."

She looks at me, a bit uncertain. "Ms. West never said anything about a phone call."

"Um. I want to call my brothers."

Actually, Darry and Soda already know where I am this time. At least the address. Still, I just want to hear their voices.

"Well, I guess one phone call can't hurt. The phone is in the hallway, close to the front door."

I try to give her a smile. "Thanks."

I keep the call short. Not that I don't want to talk to my brothers, but since the house is small. I don't want anyone to overhear anything.

It's always so awkward to be new, not knowing the unspoken rules, not knowing what to do, but I decide to go to the bedroom when I have hung up. Joey is not there, but Aidan lies in the bottom bed now, with his hands under his head and his eyes closed. I doubt he's asleep, though.

I open my suitcase on the floor and pick out my cigarettes. I debate with myself if I should just open the window, or head outside, but then I decide for the latter.

It really is the country. I don't know why so many foster homes seem to be out in the middle of nowhere. I can't help but think of tornados when I see the open landscape spreading out all around me. I don't even hear any cars; we're so far from the main road.

It's still close enough for me to not change schools, though, but like the last time, I really wish I could.

xXx

I figure two things out pretty quickly; that Aidan is a drop out who works with Mr. Davis at his used car shop, and that Joey has some big trouble in school. We're on the same school bus, and I notice how the other kids avoid him, even laugh at him behind his back. He glares at them, and I guess it's only his size that rescues him from being bullied for real. Still, he's very aware that they are teasing him.

I think I should try to be nice to him, since I have to live with him and all, but he places his bag on the seat closest to the window, then sits down at the other one, closest to the aisle, so I have no other option than to sit somewhere else. But a few seats from the back I recognize a boy from my English class, so I sit with him, and we talk a little about our homework on the way to school. If he's surprised seeing me on the bus all of a sudden, he doesn't say anything about it.

My new foster home is not as good as it was with Maggie and Sam, but both Mr. and Mrs. Davis are nice to me and treat me as if I have always lived with them. A few days after I moved in with them I start to relax more, even though I'm still longing for home so much that it hurts. It's getting worse by the day too - I guess because I have started to finally see an end to this.

Darry and Soda come to visit, together with Two-Bit and Steve, and we all head out with Steve's car to the city. We buy food in the drive-through at McDonald's, then find a table and benches under a tree in a park. The spring is here for real now, and the sun is warm.

It's always easier to breathe around my real family. Two-Bit keeps ruffling my hair and telling me stupid jokes, and Steve grunts mostly as usual, steals my cigarettes but gives me a new lighter. It's been a long time since I smiled this much.

But of course, something has to break the good mood.

"Pony, we got a date," Darry suddenly tells me as we sit enjoying each others company. I slowly put my Pepsi down on the table, feeling something I can't explain.

"When?"

He looks a bit pained. "Not until the beginning of September."

Soda stops eating, and Two-Bit and Steve share a glance.

"But you said July," I protest weakly, and I hear how desperate I sound. "It was supposed to be July. After my birthday."

"It's because of the summer, Pony," Soda explains bitterly. "We hate it as much as you do."

I count in my head. It's April now. I don't want to wait the whole summer to go home, but I guess I don't have any choice.

"The family seem nice at least," Darry says, as if trying to cheer us up or something, but it sounds too forced for that.

I get that a nice family is better than a bad one, but right now I don't care. I push the rest of my hamburger away, not hungry anymore.

"I'm sorry, Pony," Darry says. "I wish I could -"

"It ain't your fault," I mutter, even if I must admit I am a bit angry at him. It's unfair, I know. But still. At the end of the day, they can all go home to Tulsa while I can't. I'm angry at them all. I'm so jealous.

I'm suddenly glad he waited a couple of hours to tell me, because now it feels like the day is ruined. I have longed for a date, I should be happy we finally have one, but it's the _wrong_ date. I think of how it felt as I smashed the mirror. I wish I could do it again.

"Can we go now?"

I rise without waiting for an answer. Fucking, stupid state. Fucking, stupid court. I dig in my pocket for my cigarettes, but Steve has them. I turn to him, and as if he's reading my mind, he tosses the pack to me.

Soda is by my side. "Come," he says. "Let's go for a walk, all right?" He looks over his shoulder. "We'll be back soon, okay?"

I'm so glad he realized I need to be alone. Not totally alone, though, but I always feel comfortable around Soda. That hasn't changed; the state can't take that away from me at least.

Out of earshot from the others, I wipe my eyes with my sleeve.

"You think we'll win, Soda?"

"Doesn't matter if we win or not," he says. He has his own cigarette in his hand. "You're comin' home anyway."

"I am?"

"Yeah," he says, sounding so sure. "I told you, I won't let them keep you. I don't care, we'll hide you somewhere. It'll be okay."

He really means it. My heart starts to beat faster.

* * *

_I'm sorry for every fact-mistake that can show up now and in the future. About custody-court and stuff. I have tried to do research but Pony's situation is a bit unique, so I admit I will make a lot of things up. I hope it will come out realistic anyway.  
_

_Thank you so much for reading and so, so much for your reviews! Thank you! _


	23. Anger

**On a Long Road**

**23. Anger **

"Joey, you have to try harder," Mrs. Davis says, not even trying to hide her disappointment. She's holding his math test in both hands, and I know a big, red F is written in the upper corner of it.

Joey sits grumpily by the table, twirling a pen between his fingers, but he doesn't say anything. Instead he glares at me, like it's my fault he has failed. I feel a bit bad for him - yesterday Mrs. Davis was really excited about the A I got on my science test, but now she just sighs while running a hand through her hair, putting the papers back on the table top.

"You know they won't let you pass freshman year if you continue like this."

"Mr. Friedman hates me!" Joey exclaims.

"He doesn't hate you. I know he's concerned about you."

"He just gives me F's."

"That's because you don't even try." Mrs. Davis looks at him seriously before turning to me, this time forcing a smile. "How about you, Ponyboy? How did you do on your History assignment?"

"Um." I glance at Joey, then up at her. "I did okay."

"Just okay? What grade did you get?"

"An A," I say quietly, Joey's eyes burning on me now.

"Oh, that's great, Ponyboy. You shouldn't be so shy about it." Her hand is touching my shoulder. "Well, I'll leave you to your homework now. Do your best. I mean you too, Joey," she adds a bit sternly, before going back to the kitchen.

I pick up my pen again, but suddenly I feel a sharp pain on my right shin. Taken aback, I drag my foot away and snap up my head.

"I ain't stupid," Joey mutters.

"I didn't say anythin'," I retort. "You don't have to kick me."

"I can if I want to," he says stubbornly and tries again, but I quickly move my chair out of his reach.

"Can you stop that?"

"No," he pouts. "I bet you cheated."

"You know I didn't."

"Cheater!"

When I glare at him, he just grins.

xXx

It's hard to tell that Aidan and Joey have grown up together. They don't seem to even talk to each other, but Aidan doesn't talk to anyone much. I think I get along with him pretty well, though - we never argue and he's nice to me; letting me borrow cigarettes when mine run out, and he lets me read the books he borrows from the library after work. I was bit surprised when I found out that he likes to read, because he doesn't look like the type, but I guess I don't either.

It's another matter with Joey and me. We never got a great start, and it's getting worse by the day. The way his mom acts towards me doesn't make it any better either. Rather the opposite.

"I'm so proud of you, Ponyboy," she says one day at dinner, putting down her fork and knife. She looks around the table, meets Mr. Davis gaze and beams. "I think we'll need a frame for his report card when the semester is over. Did you know he got another A on a test today?"

Joey's eyes immediately shot daggers from across the table. I shift uncomfortably in my chair - I don't understand why his mom says things like that. I'm not her son, it's not thanks to her I'm good in school. I just happen to live in her house. And she shouldn't talk like that when Joey struggles so much. I know they think he doesn't do his best, but I have seen him working. He just has a lot of problems with understanding things.

After dinner when I go to the bedroom, Joey walks past me in the hallway. When he's right beside me, he knocks his elbow into my ribs, causing me to stumble into the wall.

"Ow." I glare at him as he looks at me over his shoulder.

"You were in my way," he mutters.

I stand rubbing my side before going after him, but before I can go inside, I meet Aidan at the door.

"I'm goin' to town. You wanna come?" he asks me shortly. I throw a glance at Joey behind him, hesitating a bit but then I nod. I don't feel like being alone with Joey right now, even though I don't know Aidan well enough to know if I'm making the right decision. Maybe it's stupid of me to go with him.

Aidan has his own beat up car. I'm surprised he asked me to come along, even more when he doesn't say anything as he drives the miles up to the main road. He turns on the radio, but he's not pleased with the channels, so all he does is sitting turning the wheel, trying to find some good music.

"Stupid Beatles," he mutters once, before turning the radio off completely. It gets awkwardly silent, but I don't dare to try and ask him anything.

He parks outside the library, taking out his keys. "C'mon."

Confused, I follow him up the stairs and in. He seems to know exactly where to go, but then he suddenly stops short between two shelves and turns around to face me. I have to strain myself to not flinch.

"You're smart, right?" he throws out.

I'm not sure what he means, why he asks. "Um. I guess ..."

"You guess? Is that why Mrs. Davis keeps rantin' about it?"

I blush. "She shouldn't do that."

"Yeah." He smirks, but then the smile disappears as quickly as it came. Instead, something insecure takes over his expression. "So ... I could use some help. I ain't sure Mr. Davis will keep me at work when I turn eighteen, so I need to ... you know. Some math, maybe. And. Uh ... readin'. I ain't good at that."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "But you read all the time."

He looks a bit embarrassed. "Tryin' to," he says. "The fuckin' letters, you know? They are all kinda jumpy." He gestures with his hand.

"Jumpy?"

"Yeah."

I'm not sure I get it. "But ... don't you need a real teacher if -"

"I ain't askin' for a fuckin' degree, smartass," he snaps, then stares at me, his chin tight.

Suddenly I realize what this is about. He's scared. He must be, even if he tries hard not to show it.

I have always been scared of being forced to stay in the state's care until I'm eighteen, but now, for the first time, I start to wonder what it feels like for those who don't have a family waiting for them. Where do they go when they can't stay in a foster family or a boys home anymore? I know I'm lucky to have my brothers - I will always have them, even when I'm not a minor anymore. But boys like Aidan, and Dean, and that kid in the first boys home who ran away all the time ... Ewan. They don't have anyone. When they turn eighteen, they're alone. It must be awful.

"Okay," I say quietly.

He looks hard at me and I shift my weight on my feet.

"What, um, what do you want me to teach you?"

"Like, countin'. If I can count a bit and read instructions, maybe Mr. Davis would give me a real job."

"I thought you had a real job," I say, surprised.

He snorts. "You mean he would pay me? Yeah, right. Forgotten they get money to have us? Why would he pay me when he gets _paid_ to have me already?"

"But why do you agree to that?" I slip out.

His eyes narrow. "You think I have a choice?"

He turns his back at me and stomps away. First I just stand there, feeling like I said something wrong, but how could I know? I wonder if he's mad at me. A part of me wants to leave him alone, just go, but I can't go back to the house without him since he's my ride. I have to find him.

He didn't go far, though. He sits at a table just around the corner, holding up a book when he sees me. I drag out the chair opposite of him and sit down. He pushes the book to me over the table top, and I take it and turn it over.

"This is math for six graders," I say doubtfully. He glares and I slowly put the book down. "Um, how long did you go to school anyway?"

"It doesn't matter, okay?" he says a bit harshly. "Just ... explain to me."

"Okay. Um, you have any paper and pen?"

xXx

Mr. Davis is okay - mostly he's not even home, and when he is, he's parked in the armchair in the living room, watching TV. When he talks he shows his humor, but he doesn't seem to really care about anything. Not like Mrs. Davis. She almost cares too much.

She has a special way to look at me, and I don't know, but I don't like it. I mean, Maggie and Sam almost saw me as their kid too, and they told me that, but it was still different. They didn't _act _like I was their son, they knew I already have parents even if they're dead. But Mrs. Davis ... she should back off.

Joey sure doesn't like it either. I can hardly walk past him until he tries to kick my shin, or brushes past me with his elbow hitting my arm or side. It doesn't hurt so much, but since he's so much bigger than me, I really try to avoid him.

I can't avoid him on the way to the school bus, though, and that seems to amuse him a lot. I only wear long sleeves or shirts now since it's too warm for a jacket, and he reaches out and tries to pinch me as we walk.

"Knock it off, Joey," I snap at him, jerking my arm away from his hard grip once again.

"You're so weak," he laughs as I start to walk beside the road instead of on it and next to him.

I don't even care to answer.

xXx

I can't call home so often. Not because they won't let me, even if I understand that Mr. Davis maybe wouldn't like me calling every day, but mostly it's because of the line. Every time the weather gets a little windy the phone is dead, and it happens a lot out here.

"It's an old line," Mrs. Davis says as she drops spoonfuls of cookie batter out onto a plate. "And our house lies at the end of it."

"Can they come visit this weekend then?" I ask.

"How often did they visit you before?"

"Every Sunday," I lie. I think it's not really a lie, because during the months I lived with Maggie and Sam they did. She doesn't have to know how it was before that, or at the last boys home.

"Well, I guess they can." She puts the bowl away and turns to open the oven, taking out the plate that already stands in there. The kitchen fills with the smell of freshly baked cookies.

"As soon as they're cool enough, you can have one." She has that smile on her face again.

I lean my head in my hand, avoiding her eyes. I mostly sit here because of Joey; I don't want to be in the room alone with him. Aidan is out somewhere but he didn't ask me to come this time. I guess he's with friends or something.

"Ponyboy?"

"Hm?" I look up.

"I just want to tell you how glad I am that we decided to make you a part of our family." She throws a glance at the open doorway, then lowers her voice. "I love Joey so that's not the case but ... he's not ..." She blinks furiously. "He maybe ain't really what I expected when I held that tiny baby in my arms for the first time."

I don't know what to say. I just feel really, really uncomfortable.

"I wanted a child who would ... grow up. Be smart. Go to college. Explore the world." She lifts her apron and wipes her eyes with it. "Oh, look at me," she says then, laughing a little, but it's forced. "How silly I am."

I bite my lip, thinking that I should go. But when I raise and take a step against the door, she quickly takes a step forward too, and places a hand on my arm.

"I wish you were my son, Ponyboy."

I can't look at her. I shift my gaze away and she drops her hand. I hurry out of the room, my stomach turned into a painful knot.

In the bedroom, I ignore Joey and climb up the ladder to the bunk bed. I wish Mrs. Davis hadn't said what she did, I already feel bad enough as it is towards Joey. And I don't want her to see me as her son, I already have a mom. I don't want to be a part of this family. She's scaring me a little too; she doesn't even know me. She can't know if she wants me as a son or not.

I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts that I don't notice how Joey steps up to the bunk bed, until he suddenly grips my shirt in the front and jerks. I try to hold back, but both his strength and the surprise in his action makes him able to drag me over the railing. As my weight shifts over, he just drops me.

I don't even have the time to scream until I hit the floor with a thud, the impact knocking the wind out of me. I just lie there gasping for air, too dizzy to tell what's up or down. My head spins - what the hell happened?

"Shit," I finally wheeze out, feeling pain in my right arm and shoulder. I must have landed on it.

Somehow I manage to crawl up to sit. It gets a bit easier to breathe, and I look up at Joey, who just stands there, glaring down at me.

I can't talk. I cough, then bite my lip when it hurts.

The door opens with a creak, and Joey turns his head.

"What's happening in here?" It's Mr. Davis, and his narrowed eyes land on me. "What was that sound? You threw somethin'?"

"He fell out of bed," Joey lies quickly, pointing at me. "I told him to be careful but he wouldn't listen!"

I close my eyes, not knowing if I should argue against his words or not. But Mr. Davis is Joey's dad, and I remember what happened when Mr. Collins thought that I lied. Why would Mr. Davis believe me more than Joey? I know that he wouldn't.

"Ponyboy?" he almost bellows.

"Mmm," I mumble. "I fell."

"Can you stand up?"

"Yeah." I open my eyes again and wobble up without using my right arm. I cradle it, dipping my head.

Mr. Davis is suddenly next to me, grabbing my wrist and gently dragging at it. I bite down hard again when pain shouts through my arm; from my fingers up to my shoulder. I curse out as he slowly turns it, fighting back tears. He moves his hand along it, I guess trying to feel for broken bones.

"Move your fingers. Can you do that?"

I open my hand and close it, and he seems satisfied.

"Try moving the arm up and down. I want to know it's not dislocated."

I do as he says. First, it hurts like hell, but after a few times it strangely starts to feel a bit better.

"Well, nothing seems wrong," Mr. Davis decides a bit hesitantly. "Be more careful next time, will you?"

I nod, and he pats my good shoulder and walks up to the door. He throws one last glance at me before leaving.

I don't look at Joey as I sit down on Aidan's bed. My legs are really shaky.

"You should be more careful," Joey snorts, like it wasn't all his fault.

"Shut up," I mumble, feeling nauseous. It's like it just hits me what he did. I don't even know why he did it. I hear him protest to my words, but I'm too tired to listen. I lie down instead, closing my eyes again.

xXx

"It ain't my fault he's sleepin' in your bed," Joey says. Someone pokes me in my stomach and I curl up.

"C'mon! I'm fuckin' tired!" Aidan sighs.

I open my eyes, seeing the two of them standing there, watching me. I sit, wincing a bit when I accidentally put my weight on my sore arm. Aidan doesn't seem to notice, and I stumble up, making sure not to be close to Joey.

"You slept through dinner," he enlightens me as I walk to the door and open it. I don't answer.

The house is dark and quiet. I go to the bathroom, turning on the lamp and make sure to lock the door, before carefully dragging my shirt over my head.

There is a mirror in here, of course, but I have no intent to break it. Instead I use it to look at my arm. Mostly, it looks fine - I have a bruise on my shoulder and my elbow is a bit swollen, but I can almost use it like before. I squint my eyes as I discover more bruises along my ribs. I turn so my side faces the mirror, then moving my fingers over them, pressing lightly. They don't hurt. Some of them are more yellow than blue - they must be old ones.

A bit unsettled I unbutton my jeans and drag them off, before sitting down on the toilet lid. I have bruises on my shins, too.

I take a shaky breath, thinking that I'm not afraid of Joey. I can handle this, it's not a big deal. I doubt he would seriously hurt me, even if I don't want to think of what could have happened if I had hit my head as he dragged me out of the bunk bed.

Maybe I should tell Darry and Soda, but I feel a bit embarrassed. Joey is even younger than me, I can't call it _abuse_. People would probably just laugh at me if I told them what he's doing. It's not like I can't fight back if I want to, I have been in fights with boys bigger than him before. Like the Socs in the rumble, and I was only fourteen then.

And what should I say if I told anyone? That he kicks my _shins_? That sounds ridiculous. Johnny was fucking abused with a two-by-four once, and he didn't rat. He didn't even made a sound. No one would even know it if I hadn't been there to watch it.

This is really nothing. All I have to do is be more careful, maybe punch back if it gets too much.

I start to get cold only sitting here in my underwear, so I slowly dress myself again and sneak back to the room. Joey seems to be asleep - he's quiet, at least. Aidan lies with a book again, following the letters with a finger. He frowns a bit.

"What happened?" he mouths.

"Nothin'." I change into my pyjama pants and crawl up the ladder. I make sure to lie close to the wall this time, if Joey would get the idea to drag me out of the bed again.

xXx

April turns to May. Since it's the end of the school year, there's a lot of studying to do. I get B's on some assignments, so I probably won't get a straight A report card, but it will at least be better than the one I got freshman year. It feels good to be on the right track in school, that I have managed to turn my grades back from awful to almost excellent.

I call Darry and Soda when I can. I have a feeling they work even more now, with the court date so close. I know some money disappears when Darry has to fix the roof of our house, and Soda sighs while telling me they will also have to repaint the house this summer. I really wish I could be there to help them. I say that to Soda, and we talk a bit of maybe asking Ms. West about it, if I can go home for a few days. Although, now the state must know that Darry will take my case to court, so maybe she wouldn't allow it.

They come to visit a few times. I don't tell them about Joey, but he has calmed down some. He still tries to kick or elbow me now and then, but I'm smarter than him and keep out of his way.

One of the last days at school, I go to look for Jesse. I find him standing with his friends by his locker, and when he sees me he frowns, and says something to the others. They turn to look at me, before walking away.

"Hi," I say a bit awkwardly as I approach.

"Hi." His eyes are not as hard as I thought they would be, and it makes me feel a bit braver.

"Listen, I'm sorry for what I said, okay?" I say. "My life was just kinda screwed up."

"It's fine." He doesn't smile and I don't really know what to say. I just know I can't leave it like this. I want to feel all good when I go home again.

"I have moved around a lot," I say quietly. "I never know how long I will be stayin' in one place and I just ... I mean, I'm goin' home to Tulsa again after the summer."

"Okay." Then he softens. "That sucks. Not goin' home, I mean the rest of it."

We still have about ten minutes till the next class, so I tell him a little. Not all of it. Just before the bell rings and I'm about to go, he calls me back.

"Hey, Ponyboy? Maggie called my mom. She wanted to know if you're okay."

I force myself to smile. "Tell her I am," I say.

xXx

My emotions are like a roller coaster. Sometimes all I want to do is crawl into a ball and cry my eyes out; sometimes I want to punch at someone, something, just like I did with the mirror; sometimes I almost feel great, knowing there's just the summer left and then this nightmare will be over. I will be home, and we can continue with our lives, maybe even pretend this foster care thing never happened.

I know that's a too optimistic thought, but I need it. I need to think that way or I will go crazy. I need to think everything will be okay in the end, as soon as I get home.

I graduate sophomore year, and Joey sulks. He has to repeat his freshman year due to his bad grades, and a few days into summer break, it's almost unbearable to be in the same house as him.

I can't really go anywhere else, though. Aidan is still working a lot with Mr. Davis, and sometimes he doesn't come home until late. He stops asking for my help when I don't really manage to teach him how to read better. There are no buses into town anymore, when school is out for the summer, so my only way to get into Oklahoma City is with Mrs. Davis, but it rarely happens.

My brothers and friends come down again, and we go out to a lake to spend the day. I only have a few bruises on my shins and no one says anything. I guess they remember I could be clumsy sometimes when I still lived at home. I used to bump into things. And the bruises don't show much, really. I think it will be okay between Joey and me now, when he doesn't feel like he has to compete with me about school anymore.

But those thoughts quickly disappear the day I walk into the bedroom and find my things shattered all over the place, my suitcase opened and empty. First I just stare; then I turn to Joey, who sits on his bed with a book. I open my mouth to ask him what the hell, but then I see which book he has, and the blood drains from my face.

"Give me that!"

"Huh?" He looks up with a smirk, holding the book up for me to really see the cover. "This?"

I'm beside him, reaching over and trying to grab it. "Give it to me!" I demand.

He puts a hand on my chest to keep me away, while dragging his other hand, and the book with it, behind his back.

"No, I think it would fit on the fire."

I don't know if it's the threat or just the word, but I snap. I see red. I throw myself over him and punch him hard, so hard he tumbles into the wall, blood pouring from his nose and eyes staring in shock.

I snap the book from him, but before I have the time to move, he's out of his stunned state, and he pushes me backwards. I lose my balance and fall down to the floor, with him after me. He slugs my face, once, twice, before I manage to get my arm up between us.

"I hate you," Joey growls. "I fuckin' hate you!"

"The same," I pant while trying to kick him off me, but he's too big. I don't have a chance. He grabs my arm and twist it - I drop the book, and he picks it up fast, rips off the cover and throw the pieces into the wall behind me.

Something breaks inside me. It feels like I'm going to choke, and I realize my words are true. I really do hate him. I have never hated anyone as much as I hate him right now. I scream and force myself up, suddenly having the advantage despite my size. I hit him as hard as I can, but at the same time I hear other screams, the door opens, and someone grabs me from behind and drags me back.

It's Aidan, I think, and he holds me hard with his arm around my chest, while Mr. Davis tries to calm Joey down.

"Let me go," I spit to Aidan, but he just holds me firmer. The fighting spirit leaves me, and all I can think of is to not cry. Not cry in front of these people, as I see the broken pieces of Johnny's book lying on the floor.

* * *

_I really don't know how to thank you for your read and reviews. Really - thank you! I'm so glad that you like this story and I will do my best to not disappoint you. _


	24. Lies

**On a Long Road**

**24. Lies **

I can't stop shaking. Maybe they think I'm afraid, but I'm not. I feel Joey's presence close to my left, I know that Mr. Davis stands in front of us in the living room, reprimanding us both for the fight, but I don't listen. All I can think of is what Joey did. He destroyed Johnny's book, and I will never forgive him for that. Never.

Suddenly I realize that Mr. Davis has gone quiet, and he's staring at me. I have to force my attention to him.

"Joey says you hit him first?" he asks me sternly when my gaze meets his.

"He destroyed my book!"

"You hit me before I ripped it!" Joey protests loudly. "Dad, I just held it and then he punched me. I didn't do anythin'!"

"You shouldn't have taken it!" I shout at him.

Mr. Davis puts his arms between us, forcing us both to take a step back with his hands pushing on our chests. "All this over a stupid book?"

"It ain't stupid!"

"It's just a book," Mr. Davis snorts. "You can buy another one."

_I_ can buy another one? He must be kidding me. Joey was the one destroying it, and I _can't_ buy another one, because this was the book Johnny gave me, with his letter inside -

I stop short in my thoughts. How did Joey know that the book is important to me? He must have known, it's not the only book I have with me, but it was the only one he took. He must have read what Johnny wrote in it. He didn't rip it because I hit him, he ripped it because he knew!

"He ripped it on purpose!"

"No, I didn't!"

Mr. Davis rolls his eyes, while continuing to keep us apart. "Joey, say you're sorry for taking the book without asking."

I glare at Joey. He has paper rolls sticking out of his nostrils to stop the bleeding, and a swollen cheek. I wish I had been able to do more. At least give him a black eye, like he gave me.

"I'm sorry," Joey says obediently, but he's not. He doesn't even try to hide his smile, but his dad doesn't care.

"Now, Ponyboy, say you're sorry you hit him."

I take a step back. No way I'm gonna say that. I'm not sorry.

"Come on, Ponyboy. Let's get this thing over with."

"I won't say it."

Mr. Davis quickly grips my upper arm, yanking me forward so fast I almost stumble. "Just say it! I don't want to deal with this nonsense anymore."

His grip tightens and I have no choice. "I'm sorry," I grit through my teeth, refusing to look at either of them.

"Good. I don't want to hear about this again, okay? That means both of you. Joey, you go outside. Ponyboy, go to the kitchen. Now!"

Joey turns around and shuffles through the hallway without another word, and Mr. Davis lets go of me. I rub my arm, trying to swallow down the lump in my throat as I make my way to the kitchen.

Mrs. Davis sits by the table, looking up at me when I come inside. "I did my best," she says, and she hands me the book.

I take it. She has taped it back together, but it's not the same anymore.

"Thanks," I mumble. I have to be alone now. She must realize it, because she doesn't stop me when I go back to the bedroom. I ignore my clothes on the floor and climb up into my bed, refusing to cry until I can burrow my face into the pillow. Then I can't hold it in anymore.

xXx

"I don't believe you," Soda says with emphasis. He stands stiff in front of me, almost glaring.

"I ain't lyin'," I say, but that is actually what I do. I didn't really plan it, though. Soda and Steve just showed up without calling first, on a _Thursday_ of all days, and I didn't have the time to prepare what to say about my black eye. So I tried to take the easy way out, but apparently, it didn't really work.

"This is the third time, Pony," Soda enlightens me. "So don't fuckin' lie to me."

I frown, turning slightly away. "Third time what?"

"Third time you're hurt when we come and see you."

I'm pretty sure they haven't seen any of my bruises caused by Joey before. "You're wrong," I tell him. "This is the first. And I told you, it was just an accident. I fell -"

"You didn't fall out of a bed."

I kick away a rock. "Why don't you believe me?" I snap at him. I don't want to fight with him! Why can't he just let it go?

Steve sits on the hood of his car, watching us silently. He smokes, and I'm dying for a cigarette too - I just wish Soda would calm down first. He doesn't understand, even if he thinks he does. I know that if I tell him the truth, he will haul me into the car and drive me back to Tulsa, and then we will lose in court for sure. Even if he thinks he can hide me, I know that he can't. I realize that someone has to be realistic here, and even though I really want to give in to him, I think we have to do this the right way. Darry has to get the custody back from a judge, because then I will know I won't be forced to move again. I need to know that I will be allowed to stay with my brothers forever. I want it written down on a piece of paper.

"'Cause it has happened before. Remember that time you lived in that place ... with that guy? What was his name? Richard?"

"You mean Ricky?" I say, the memory slowly returning to me, that I fought with Ricky and got bruises. But that was all my fault.

"You said you two had a fight. Then at that farm. You said it was a pitch fork."

"It was a pitch fork," I try. "I don't understand why you think I'm lyin' ..."

Soda grabs my wrist, almost looking desperate. "'Cause I've heard about foster homes, okay? Jesus, Pony. You've had bruises on your face three fuckin' times and you tellin' me all those times were accidents?"

"It was acci -"

"Stop it! How come all the accidents just happen to you, huh? You haven't seen anyone of us comin' here with bruises. Three times, Pony!"

I pull my arm out from his grip, and he lets go immediately. I feel embarrassed - they don't show up with bruises because they are not weak like me. They wouldn't lie like I do. They would probably know what to do and what to say, all the time. How to handle things.

"We'll you weren't here, were you?" I hear myself retort harshly, and Soda pales visibly. I know it's a hit under the belt, but it's my bad conscience that makes me go on. I'm angry at myself, and I turn the anger against him instead. "You were never here! You can't know anythin', you know that, Soda? How can you know I didn't fall out of my bed?"

He almost looks like I hit him for real.

"Pony -"

"No, I'm tired of this! You should just listen -"

"Hey, come on," Steve suddenly interrupts me, throwing away his cigarette butt. "Stop with your fuckin' arguin' and get in the car. I'm starvin' here."

"Shut up, Steve!" Soda exclaims, but I roll my eyes and walk past him. As I open the door to the back seat, Steve slides down the hood and stops Soda from going after me by standing in front of him, guarding him.

"Let it go," I hear him say seriously before I close the door after me.

I lean back with a sigh, closing my eyes for a short moment. Sometimes I wish Soda wasn't so overprotective. Darry used to say I'm the one not using my head, but right now I know it's Soda. If I just breathe about Joey hitting me, he will snap. He will do something stupid. Maybe not only take me away from here, maybe he would even hurt Joey, and I can't let him do that. If we will have any chance of winning, I know we need to be really careful about how we act.

I look up and out through the wind screen. Steve stands with his back to me, but I see Soda's face; his eyes burning, his mouth in a thin line. He shakes his head furiously, then says something. He turns his gaze and stares right at me though the glass. I quickly look down at my hands.

Some minutes later, they open their car doors too and jump inside. Steve opens the glovebox, takes something out, then turns around and tosses a cigarette pack into my lap. It bounces off my knees and lands between my feet.

"A gift from Two-Bit," Steve says as I pick it up.

"It's already opened," I mutter, and he snickers. I pull out a stick and light up, rolling down the window to let the smoke out.

Soda doesn't say anything the whole ride into town. He just leans his elbow against the window and his head in his hand, almost looking like he's about to cry. I think I can count the amount of times Soda and I have fought for real on one hand, and since I'm not used to it, I don't know how to make it right again.

Soda has the solution, though. As we park in front of a mall, I head out on the same side as him, and he grips my sleeve.

"Tell me again you ain't lyin' and I'll believe you," he says.

I don't even blink. "I fell out of my bed and I ain't lyin' about it."

He takes a deep breath. "Okay," he says then. "Okay." His eyes betray him, though, but at least for the moment he will let it go. He gives me a tired smile.

We walk around the mall for a while, talking and looking at some stuff; switchblades, jeans and records. I stop in front of the book store, and even though Steve sighs heavily before we walk in, we spend at least half an hour in there. I tell Soda I don't want anything, but it ends up with him buying me three new pocket books anyway. I think he wants to make up for our fight.

We eat hot dogs and mashed potatoes, and orders Pepsi's to go. Some time later Soda tosses his empty paper mug in a trash can, announcing he has to pee. Steve and I sit down on a bench outside a store as he goes to find a public restroom.

I don't really like being alone with Steve because I never know what to say. Especially today, when he looks at me coldly, so coldly I finally have to ask what his problem is.

"My problem?" he says, an eyebrow raised. "Shouldn't we be talkin' about _your _problem?"

"What?" I avoid his eyes. "I don't have a problem."

"Don't feed me with the bullshit you tried on Soda, kid."

"It ain't bu -"

"I told you, don't even try it on me," he interrupts me. "Shoot, Pony, you're a pretty good liar, I'll give you that, but you forget I ain't stupid." He leans slightly forward, and I know he's looking closer at my black eye. He smirks, and then turns his gaze down to my hands. "Your knuckles are bruised, too, you know."

I quickly hide my hands between my knees. "That doesn't mean anythin'."

"That means a lot."

I clamp my mouth shut. A minute passes, and when I don't answer, he sighs. "Well, at least I know it can't be your foster dad. He's quite big, and I doubt you would hit him back, right?"

"Steve," I say seriously. "No one hit me."

"And I'm the fuckin' president."

I look away, my thoughts racing. I don't know if I should keep denying it or just beg him not to tell Soda. Not that Soda believes me either, but at least he pretends to.

"Listen, Pony," Steve says suddenly. "If I thought it was that man, I would tell Soda, okay? I wouldn't shut up about it then. But I really hope you would have told him yourself if you were in some sort of danger."

"I can handle it."

"Can you?"

"Yes!" I snap. "Don't treat me like I'm some little kid. I'm not anymore, Steve."

"You're too scared to even tell your own brother the truth, _kid_."

"Shit." I drag a hand over my face. "I just ... you know Soda. You know what he would do."

"I thought you wanted to go home."

"I do." I throw him a quick glance. "You know I do. But you know we have to go through court. I can't do it Soda's way."

Steve's quiet and I wonder if he maybe doesn't agree with me. His jaw is tight, and he stares at the people walking past us.

"So who was it?" he suddenly throws out, making me almost jerk at his demanding voice. The stare he gives me leaves no room for a lie. Steve is not like Soda; I can't wrap him around my finger.

"Joey," I mumble, and he frowns.

"Joey, the kid that's over six feet tall?"

"He's younger than me," I protest weakly. "I said I can handle him. He's not that good at fightin' anyway."

"He hit you more times?"

"I said _fightin'_ Steve."

He snorts. "Yeah, but I know you more than you think, Pony. I know you ain't stupid, even if you don't always use that head of yours. You wouldn't jump a kid that much bigger than you, so my conclusion is he jumped you."

I guess I could tell that it was actually what happened, but then I would have to tell him about Johnny's book, and maybe about Joey's mom and the kicks, and the time I really fell out of bed. I can't tell him that.

"Don't tell Soda," I beg. "Please."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"'Cause you don't want Soda in trouble, do you?" When I look up I see Soda coming towards us in the crowd, and I hurry. "Please, Steve! I promise I tell them if ... if I can't handle it anymore, okay? But it's really no big deal."

"What do you mean by anymore? You mean it has happened before, right?"

"No! I mean if it happens again. Just ... shut up about it. Okay? For Soda. He will only do somethin' he'll regret."

Before Steve has the time to answer Soda stands before us.

"Sorry," he says. "There were a lot of people in front me."

"Can we go now?" I jump up, grabbing my bag with the books. Soda looks at Steve, who shrugs.

"Yeah. Whatever."

I start walking fast toward the entrance of the mall and the parking lot. Soda has to ask me to slow down, and I do. I glance at Steve, but his expression doesn't change a bit. I can just hope he will shut up about our conversation.

xXx

"Dammit." I bend over my bruised ribs, cursing myself for being so stupid. I should have known.

Mr. Davis and Aidan are at work; Mrs. Davis went grocery shopping. She asked me if I wanted to come too, but I said no, not wanting to destroy the days of peace between me and Joey. I didn't have anything for that, though, as soon as he got me alone in the house.

I stretch up again, biting my lip. He really did a number on me, but at least he let my face be. I don't want to explain other bruises to my brothers when they come down next time.

Joey's in the kitchen, eating the apple pie his mom left for both of us, but there's no way I'm spending my time anywhere near him. I go outside instead, sitting on the stairs and smoking, rubbing my stomach carefully.

Maybe I should have told Soda, but it can't be worse than this. Next time, I'll just ask Mrs. Davis if I can come along, or maybe I can try to hang out more with Aidan. I wish I wasn't so isolated out here. I should have treated Jesse better, and maybe he and his brother could come and pick me up now and then. I know I fixed it a bit with him, but still ... I can't really ask him for any favors now.

Mrs. Davis' car comes down the driveway and I rise, trying not to grimace. She parks and opens her door.

"Can you help me with the bags, Ponyboy?"

"Okay."

I go to the trunk and pick up two grocery bags, carrying them into the kitchen, ignoring the ache in my stomach as much as I can. Joey looks up from his place at the table as I put the bags down on the counter.

"You shouldn't do that," he says.

I glance at the door, but I guess Mrs. Davis is still outside since I didn't hear the front door. "You mom asked me to," I answer back.

"She's _my _mom!"

"Why don't you help her then?" I snap, tired of this. I don't wait for his answer, I just head outside again to grab the last bag.

xXx

There is nothing to see out here, just grass fields and a single tree here and there, as we walk down a dirt road. Above us the sky is blue without any clouds sheltering from the sun. It's really hot. I drag my arm over my sweaty forehead, wishing I had a hat or something, when I notice that Aidan is looking at my arm.

"How did you get that?" he says, but it's not really a question. I know he means the ugly bruise covering my upper arm, peeking out from under my t-shirt.

I drop my arm to the side. "Joey," I mutter. Then I say, frustrated, "He won't leave me alone!"

Aidan snorts, taking a drag from his cigarette. "He's just a little brat."

"Easy for you to say, he doesn't do anythin' to you."

He snickers, and I glare at him until he shakes his head, flickering away some ash.

"You just need to know how to deal with him," he says. "You shoulda seen me when I came here. I was eleven and as scrawny as hell, and Joey was big even then. He tried to use me as his punching bag, but I put a stop to it pretty fast."

"What did you do?"

He gives me an amused look. "I took a knife, held it against his throat and said I would kill him if he didn't stop."

My heart flutters. "You didn't!"

"My life was so crappy then, I didn't really care about what would happen. But he kept his trap shut about it, and he never tried to hit me again." He looks up at the sun. "Maybe we should head back."

"Yeah."

We turn around and start walking back to the house. We don't even see it from here, and I wonder how far away we are, but I guess it doesn't matter. I just wish we had brought some water with us, but all we have is our cigarettes. The gravel crunches under my shoes, the sand dusts up in clouds with every step, making the air almost too dry to breathe.

"But I can't do that," I say quietly after a while, and Aidan looks at me with raised eyebrows. "I mean threaten him with a knife. I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"I just can't."

"You didn't tell your brothers."

"No. They can't do anythin' anyway. I just want the time to go fast up to court and then... I'll go home and forget about it. About all of it." I don't mean just Joey.

"Yeah, I can't wait 'til I turn eighteen," Aidan sighs, not sounding as tough as usual. The more I get to know him, I think there's more inside him than he chooses to show.

"You know what you're gonna do?" I ask him, because as far as I know, his plans of learning the school stuff didn't work out very well.

"I think I'll take my car and drive to California or somethin'. I don't care, I just want to get out of here."

The road makes a turn, and we walk up a small hill. Closer to the house, my stomach knots again. I really hate that house. What Joey does to me forces me to be on my guard - I never know when he will do anything, or how, and even if most of the time he only gives me bruises, I have a feeling he can easily snap at any time, and do something worse. Like when he dragged me out of the bed. Maybe I should try Aidan's way, so he would leave me alone, but he's older now. I doubt it would scare him as it did when he was nine.

"I wish Mrs. Davis could stop with her talkin'," I admit. "It just makes it worse."

"She finally got her dream son," Aidan says sarcastically. "I bet she had some hopes for me, and then I turned out worse than Joey. She must've been so disappointed."

"I ain't her son," I snap. "And you're smarter than Joey."

Aidan shrugs. "At least he can read."

"It's not about that and you know it."

We both get quiet as we approach the house from the back. Going around the short side up to the front, we meet both Mr. and Mrs Davis on the porch.

"There you are," Mrs. Davis hurries to say. "The nursing home just called; my father is ill. They think it's his heart. We have to go, and I don't know when we will be back. Probably not until tomorrow."

Her eyes are red, her face pale with worry, and a lump in my throat grows fast. I suddenly think of Sam. I always wish he wouldn't have died. I miss him, him and Maggie both. I figure my life would have been much better if I still lived with them.

Aidan doesn't say anything, so I swallow.

"I hope ... I hope he'll be all right," I force myself to say. Mrs. Davis hugs me hard.

"Thank you, Ponyboy."

xXx

Aidan downs his third glass of whiskey. I'm not sure Mr. Davis will be too fond to notice him and Joey stealing his booze, but I don't say anything. I just sip my beer slowly, wishing it tasted better. Joey burps and shuffles the cards clumsily, then deals them out onto the coffee table. I guess I should be happy he seems to be treating me well tonight, but I still eye him a bit suspiciously as I pick up my cards and sort them.

So far Aidan is the big winner. I don't have Soda's skills at poker, and Joey is awfully bad, worse than me. Now he grimaces at his hand, cursing loudly for himself.

"You're not supposed to hint your cards," Aidan tells him tiredly.

"They're crappy!" Joey complains a bit slurred. "Can I have new ones?"

"No, you can't have new ones. Now shut up."

"Screw you, then," Joey mutters, then takes a gulp straight from the bottle of vodka, grimacing even more. I can tell he's drunk. "Gimme your cards, Ponyboy."

"Why?"

"'Cause I want them, idiot." He glares.

"Christ!" Aidan throws his own cards at the table, leaning back in the armchair with a sigh. "Let's just quit."

I put down my half full bottle of beer and rise from the couch. I didn't enjoy this evening.

"I'm goin' to bed," I decide.

"Ten o'clock?" Aidan says doubtfully, and I nod, walking around the coffee table. When I'm just passing Joey, he rises too, and I accidentally bump into him as he staggers.

"Hey!" He puts his hands up and pushes me hard, away from him, and I almost fall into the bookcase behind me. I turn around quickly and before I know it, I have pushed him back. He loses his balance and lands on the table, glasses and bottles crashing down onto the floor.

"I'm so fuckin' tired of you!" I shout at him. "Just leave me alone!"

He glares as he tries to rise, but I push him back once more. "Hit me again and you'll be sorry," I say harshly, remembering Aidan's threat to him.

Joey doesn't say anything, and I stare at him for a full minute more, until I turn around to go, trying not to shake.

I go to the bathroom to use the toilet and brush my teeth; then I change into my pyjama pants before climbing up into bed. I have a hard time falling asleep; maybe because it's still pretty early and I'm kind of worked up. I sigh as I toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position. I hear Aidan's and Joey's murmured voices through the walls, but they silence after a while, too.

About half an hour later I'm still awake, and suddenly I hear Aidan's voice again, this time sounding upset about something. Wondering what's going on, I climb down to the floor, change back to my jeans and drag a t-shirt over my head, before padding barefoot out of the room and down the hallway.

"Joey, put it down," I hear Aidan say seriously. "Don't fuckin' do anythin' stupid."

"What? I won't. I just-"

"Joey!" Aidan's voice is sharper now. "Put it down!"

"No. It ain't even loaded. I'm just gonna -"

I stop in the doorway to the living room, eyeing the scene before me. Aidan stands in front of the armchair, his hands up in a soothing gesture. When he sees me, he frowns deep and shakes his head, and Joey turns around.

My eyes widen, and I take a step back when I see the gun in his hand.

* * *

_Thank you so, so much for reads and reviews! I appreciate it tons!  
_

_I hope you liked this chapter too. There are not so many left now...  
_


	25. The Book

**On a Long Road **

**25. The Book**

"Joey," Aidan says again, and Joey turns his gaze away from me. I put my hand against the wall, to steady myself. I'm thinking of the last time I saw a gun - it was in Dally's hand, while the bullets hit his body, killing him ... I close my eyes and open them, but the image refuses to go away. I shudder.

"Give it to me," Aidan tries, reaching out a hand, but Joey only shakes his head and moves away.

"Afraid I'm gonna shoot you?" he mocks drunkenly. "I wouldn't do that. Maybe Ponyboy." He grins at me and I can't move.

"Oh, fuckin' stop this shit!" Aidan swears.

"No, I'm tired of _your _shit," Joey mutters. He backs away even more, guarding the front door now. He points the gun at me.

"I hate him. I can put a bullet in his brain."

I feel sweat breaking through my skin. I give Aidan a panicky glance, and he sighs.

"Joey, stop it."

"No. Don't tell me what to do," he says grumpily.

"Fine. Play with your little gun, then, but we ain't stayin'." Aidan walks up to me, a little unsteady with his steps. "C'mon, Pony," he says, gripping my arm. He drags me with him, down the hall, back to the bedroom, closing the door behind us.

"That kid!" he mutters while snatching his pack of cigarettes and yanking the window open.

The house is too silent. I have a bad feeling something's going to happen. I keep glancing at the door, just waiting for Joey to turn up with that gun, and I think we should run while we can. But Aidan seems to have other plans, sitting on the floor under the window now, with his head leaned back against the wall, slowly blowing out smoke.

I clutch my arms around my body.

"Aidan?"

He doesn't look up. "What?"

"Was it loaded?"

He drags up one corner of his mouth. "Doubt it."

"But you can't be sure?"

"It wasn't loaded, Ponyboy."

"Because he said so?"

"I'm too drunk for this," he complains. "Shut up, please. Go back to bed, or somethin'."

I glance at the door again, hoping Aidan is right.

"I need a cigarette," I say quietly. I walk to stand beside him, and he gives me the pack without me having to ask for it.

I lean out through the window as I smoke. The air is a bit chilly tonight; the sky dark and cloudy.

I put the butt out on the windowsill when I'm done, turning around, just to jump high as the door suddenly opens and Joey stands there. He still has the gun. His eyes are red and puffy, like he has been crying, and he points the barrel at me again. I press myself backwards as far as I can get.

"I'm gonna kill you," he sniffs. "I'm really gonna do it."

Aidan huffs while he rises up on his feet. "Hey, man," he says. "Knock it off, will ya?"

Joey wipes his nose with his sleeve. "No! I don't want him in my house anymore. Why can't he just go?"

"I can go," I hurry to say. "Okay? I'm - I can call my social worker, she'll come and get me tomorrow, I promise." My hands are all sweaty but I don't dare to move to rub them off on my jeans.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Joey says, suddenly glaring harder. "You all think I'm stupid, but I'm not anymore. I've got a bullet." He fumbles with the gun.

"Joey," Aidan says tiredly, taking a step forward, but just a second later a sharp sound echoes through the room, surprising us all. Joey's face turns white in a second, and Aidan stumbles backwards, crashes into me, and we both fall down to the floor.

"_Shit_," I hear Aidan say as I struggle to sit up. I don't know what to look at; Aidan, Joey, the gun, the blood ... god, blood ... there's blood on my hands!

My first thought is that it's me, he was going to shoot _me_, but I'm not in pain, nothing hurts, and then I realize -

Aidan. Shit, shit, shit ... I fumble with my hands over his shirt, leaning down over him. "Aidan!"

"Ow ... fuck," he moans.

"No, no, no..." I say desperate, trying to turn him over, to his back, but he's heavy, pressing himself down into the carpet. He's stronger than me.

"I didn't mean to!" Joey's voice finds its way into my mind.

"You ... you shot him!" I look up at him, finding him just staring at me in disbelief. "You _shot him_!"

"I said I didn't mean to!" he yells, making me flinch. But Aidan moves under my hands, and I have to turn my attention back to him, help him ...

"Call an ambulance!" I beg Joey, but he doesn't move. "C'mon Joey! Hurry up!"

"I can't! They'll think I did it on purpose but I didn't. I swear I didn't!"

"Dammit," I curse, choking up as I see the wound when Aidan tries to sit up. It's on his stomach somewhere, hidden under his fingers. There's too much blood. He's so pale, breathing unevenly.

"It's your fault, Ponyboy!" Joey suddenly says, but I ignore him. I can't deal with him now, not now when Aidan ...

"Aidan, come on ..." I'm crying now. I didn't even notice it. I sniff as Aidan's eyes get dim, as he slumps down again, breathing hard and ragged now, like he can't get enough air. I know I'm looking at him, but I see another boy, another boy with blonde hair, outside in a park, under a street light, and I know he will die. I wish he wouldn't. He wanted to turn eighteen, to take his car and drive, to get out of here, but not like this. I can't understand how this is happening. It's always happening. Everyone just dies.

I wipe my eyes and when I look up, Joey is not by the door anymore. Frantic I look around, but he must have left.

Then I remember. _I've got a bullet_. He had one bullet; he shot Aidan. But it was me he wanted to kill. What if he went to get another one? Another bullet? I choke up even more, knowing I need to move. I can't ... I can't think. I have to get Aidan to come too, I can't leave him here.

I lean over him again, trying to get him to look at me. "Aidan! Aidan, we gotta run ..."

He doesn't answer me, but his eyes are half-open.

"Aidan!" I try firmer, placing my hand over his heart. It's still beating, but it feels wrong. I hear a noise somewhere, from the house, and I snap my head up, my own heart beating wildly in compare to the one under my palm.

I manage to stand. I just stare at the door, not knowing what to do. Joey will come back and then ... I will never see Soda and Darry again.

I look around for my shoes, but I can't find them. Somewhere in my mind, I think they stand by the front door, where I kicked them off ... didn't I? But I don't dare to go out there, so instead, I hurry over the floor and climb halfway up the ladder, searching under my covers for Johnny's book. I won't leave without it.

Back on the floor, I hunch over Aidan again. I hope he's still alive.

"Aidan ... I'm gonna get help, okay?" I promise him quietly, close to his ear. "Don't die." I sniff, wiping my eyes furiously. "Aidan?"

There's still no answer from him, and when I nudge him, he doesn't make a sound, doesn't even move anymore. It feels like the walls tumble down around me, trapping me, it's like I can't breathe. I think I know, but I don't _want_ to know, and I try to tell myself he's just hurt. Just hurt.

But I know he's not.

I can't stay any longer. I tell myself I have to rise and move to the window, climb over the sill, and after a while, I manage. I don't know how, just that I feel the grass under my bare feet all of a sudden.

I just run at first. I don't care in which direction, I just run over the field, away from the house. I turn around once, see the light from our bedroom window, but otherwise it's dark and quiet. I wonder if Joey is out here, looking for me, so I run faster for a moment, stumbling and grimacing when my feet hit hard or sticky ground. I fall down to my knees three times, and I drop the book, having to fumble for it in the dark. I won't lose it. I need it. I need the book, even if it's destroyed, but it was just the front cover, and it's taped together ...

I find the book and press it close to my body, crying hard now. I have to sit down on my butt and drag up my legs to my chest and bury my face into my knees. I cry and shake and I can't stop. I try to wrap my thoughts around what happened in the house, but it's impossible. Joey shot Aidan. He killed him. He killed him right in front of my eyes; he just lied there, so pale, like Dally was. But Dally chose it, Aidan didn't. I'm sure he didn't want to die. And then he did, and all because of me.

Everyone dies because of me. Bob, because Johnny had to stab him to save me. Johnny, because I was the one running into that burning church. Dally, because I killed Johnny. And now Aidan too, because Joey wanted to kill me. How am I supposed to live with this? I should go back, just let Joey finish it ... it was my fault. Four people are dead because of me. Instead of me. It should have been me, every time ...

xXx

I don't know what time it is when I finally calm down, but it's still dark. I slowly sit up, from finding myself lying down in the grass completely. I'm tired, dirty, bloody... my whole body aches. My cheeks feel stiff and my eyes burn, swollen by tears, but at least they have stopped now. I'm not a little kid, I shouldn't break down like this. I have to act - I have to decide what to do next. I have to try to think clearly, like Dally would have done.

I could go to the road, hitchhike into Oklahoma City and go straight to the police ... no. Not alone. The police have always scared me a bit, being a greaser and all. I know they're not too fond of us. Maybe they wouldn't even believe me if I tell them about ...

I don't even want to think about it.

I have to go home, but then the state will find me. If they find me, what will they do? Send me away again, but I can't let them do that. It will just happen again; someone will die, or get killed, or they will hit me or move me around. I can't go back to the state's care, I have to do what Soda wants, hide somewhere. I don't care about the consequences anymore.

Maybe I could go to Two-Bit's or Steve's? No, they would find me there too, the state knows we're friends. Besides, Two-Bit's house is too small and Steve's dad would kick me out for sure, he doesn't even let Steve stay sometimes. I think frantically, but I don't know so many people back in Tulsa, people who would be willing to hide me until I turn eighteen.

I stagger to my feet. It hurts to move, and I really hope I'm walking in the right direction.

I'm exhausted when I finally reach the main road. I jump over the ditch, stumble on the asphalt, scratching my toes against the hard ground. I stare in both directions, but it's all empty; no cars in sight. I know I will need a ride, Tulsa is too far away to walk.

I hold the book close to my chest as I start walking anyway, in the middle of the road. The night air feels chilly against my bare arms, everything so unreal. I look up at the dark sky, wondering if maybe this is all just a nightmare, one of my usual dreams. Maybe this isn't happening at all; I'm already home, in my own bed, sleeping next to Soda. For some reason I start to giggle, only to turn to sobs again a minute later, but it's dry sobs. I don't have any tears left.

I don't know why I don't hear the car coming, but I hear the screeching wheels as the driver hits the breaks. I stop and turn around, opening my mouth, but no sound comes out, and then I'm suddenly thrown up on the hood as the front hits my hip, rolling down to the asphalt again, landing hard on my side as the car comes to stop. I moan, blinking dizzily against the sudden light from the headlights above me.

I hear a car door open and a voice, then suddenly someone stands above me, sinking down on their knees.

"What the hell?" a man swears loudly, panicky. "What were you doin' in the middle of the road? I didn't see you! Christ, boy, answer me! You all right? Shit, I can't believe I -"

He grabs my arms and helps me to sit, and I groan, feeling hurt all over.

"Oh god, ye're bleedin'!"

"Where's my book?" I mumble, noticing my hands are empty, and the man blinks in confusion.

"Book?"

I try to push him away, make him let me go so I can stand up. "My book! I need my book!"

"Boy, I hit you with my car, calm down a sec -"

Ignoring him, I manage to loosen myself from his grip and stand up on shaky legs. My right leg hurts like hell when I put my weight on it, but I can walk, and I start looking around. I won't lose it!

The man stands up too. "You should sit down! C'mon, get in the back seat, I need to take you to the hospital!"

I stare, not knowing what he's talking about. Hospital? "No, I need to go home," I tell him.

He rubs his forehead. He's a bit fat, with grey hair and a grey beard, and he takes a step closer, making me flinch away and almost lose my balance. I put my hand against the car to steady myself.

"Where are you hurt? Shit, where are all the blood comin' from?"

I look down, see that my hands and t-shirt are covered in red. But it's dry, it's not mine.

Aidan.

Getting scared he will notice it, wondering about it, I limp out from the headlights.

"I'm okay," I say, trying to sound like it, too. "I just need my book."

"Did you hit your head?"

"No," I say, but maybe I did. I don't know. There is pain but I can't really tell from where, other than my leg. I take another step and then I see it, _Gone with the Wind_, lying close to the ditch. When I lean down to take it, the world spins, and I have to sit down, force my head down between my knees.

There is a shadow close to my left. "Kid, please. You dyin' on me?"

Dying. I'm not dying. I won't die tonight. I shake my head slowly, but I don't know if he can see it in the dark.

"You need a doctor."

"No!"

"I can't just leave you out here. Where do you live?"

I only hesitate for a short moment. "Tulsa."

"Tulsa?" he repeats, sounding surprised. "Then what the hell are you doin' out here in the middle of the night?"

I can't come up with a lie, so I remain silent.

"Well, I can't drive you all the way up there, but I can take you to the city."

I guess that's better than sitting here. I take the book, and the man helps me to my feet and to the passenger door, opening it for me. I hear Mom's voice somewhere back in my head, telling us to never ride with strangers, but hell, I have only been with strangers the past two years. One more can't hurt.

I don't care to buckle up and the man seems not to care. He just turns the key, and his car sputters to life.

"Lucky I saw you in time," he says to me as he drives, glancing at me worriedly now and then. "It wasn't that hard impact, was it? You feel fine?"

"Yeah," I say quietly, knowing that's what he wants to hear.

xXx

I'm dropped off at the bus station, but I have no money. I have no shoes either, no jacket, only my book and blood on my skin and t-shirt. The man seems relieved to get rid of me as I once again say I'm fine, that I don't need anything, and he drives off as quickly as he can, leaving me all alone.

I limp to a public restroom to wash up. The warm water stings, and I notice some abrasions on my arms, mostly my right elbow. I drag my t-shirt over my head to wash it too, but the red won't come off. I'm glad it's blue and not white - maybe I can say it's paint if someone asks. I try to dry it with paper towels, but it's impossible, so I have to wear it wet afterwards.

I'm trying to avoid the mirror as much as I can, but I get short glimpses of my face now and then when I move - tired, pale, bruised, it doesn't really look like me. Maybe it's not me.

I shake my head at the thought. Of course I'm still me. I'm Ponyboy.

It just doesn't feel like it.

I leave the restroom. More people fill the station now, and some look at me a bit funny. I guess I look like a mess; limping, dirty, wet, with bruises and wounds, barefoot. I avoid them, sneaking out to the buses' parking lot, finding one that will head to Tulsa in half an hour. Studying it for a while, I realize that there's no way I can sneak aboard without anyone noticing; the bus driver keeps his eyes on the passengers and I know I stand out. I can't risk trying if they will call the cops on me.

I have to leave Oklahoma City by foot, but I know it's about a hundred miles walk home - I know I can't do it. It would be impossible even unhurt, and now my leg is killing me. I have to bite my lip with every step.

When a car drives by, I stick my thumb out, but no one stops for me. Sighing, I limp forward, knowing I have to keep moving. I just hope the police don't drive by, I guess they would be able to tell I'm a runaway just by looking at me.

I'm all alone with my thoughts as I stride. Aidan's dead. But he's not. It's just like it was with Johnny and Dally. It took forever to realize what happened to them, and then I wrote my theme. Shit. What's going to happen now? I won't go to jail, right? I didn't do anything, I was just in the room. I'm a victim too. I stop and close my eyes, wishing Soda was here. I almost feel him; almost hear him talk, telling me everything's going to be fine. I just need to come home and we'll fix it.

I hide behind some trees when I have to pee, and when I'm done, my stomach grumbles. I'm hungry and thirsty and exhausted. I feel like crying again, I'm so scared, but then I try to think of Dally's words, and Johnny's. Be tough, stay gold. Is it possible to do both? I wipe my face even if it's dry.

At least the sun is warm, I think, as I start walking along the road again. It dries my shirt, I'm not cold.

I have to stop eventually, unable to walk more because of my leg and feet and the lack of food and water. Everything hurts so much. I sit down on the verge, in the shadow of a tree, and then I'm closing my eyes just for a second.

xXx

"Um, kid?" Someone is shaking my shoulder, and I groan, turning around, but the mattress is strange underneath me. Then I realize it's not a mattress, it's grass, and I hear the sound of traffic nearby. I open my eyes and sit up, surprised by the dusk. I just stare as it slowly dawns to me that a whole day has passed as I slept.

"Kid?" the voice urges, and I turn my gaze, meeting a pair of blue eyes in a freckled face. The guy in front of me wears a cowboy hat, and he can't be much older than Darry. He smiles relieved.

"I thought you were dead," he says. "I got a flat tire and stopped over there." He points backwards, and I follow his finger to his car. "I changed the tire and then I saw you lyin' here."

My mouth is dry and I try to swallow.

"You were asleep," he informs me. "Shit, I thought I would touch a corpse."

I don't feel good. All I want is to lie down again and continue to sleep.

The guy rests on his heels. "I should be goin' but I can't really leave you here."

I don't even care to ask why not. I would leave me here. What's the point in doing anything? What's the point in trying to go home? I won't make it anyway.

"Can I drive you somewhere?"

I mutter something, and he raises an eyebrow. "What did you say?"

"Tulsa," I say louder, forcing the words out. My throat feels like a desert. "I need to go to Tulsa."

"That's like, over an hours drive."

I look away. "Yeah."

He sighs heavily. "Fine. C'mon."

"Um, what?"

"Well, I'm headin' in that direction anyway. It's not that much of a detour for me."

"You'll drive me to Tulsa?" I say perplexed.

"Yeah. Told ya, I can't really leave you out here. It's gettin' dark soon and you look like hell. What happened to you?"

I pick up Johnny's book. "Nothin'."

"Where are your shoes?" he asks as I stand. I have a hard time doing it.

"Forgot them."

"You forgot your shoes?" He looks at me as I'm crazy. Maybe I am.

"Will you drive me or not?" I just ask quietly, and he nods, motions for me to come along. I limp after him, nearly falling by every step.

In his truck, I fall asleep again. I know it's stupid of me when I close my eyes and lean my head against the cold window - I have no idea of who he is, what he wants, where he's going. Maybe I will wake up in the other end of the country. Maybe he's a killer and I was running from Joey just to wind up dead anyway. But eventually he nudges me, and I jolt up to sit, suddenly staring out at my home town through the windscreen. My heart beats faster.

"So where do you live?"

I open my mouth and close it. What am I going to say? I bet the state knows I'm gone by now, maybe Ms. West is sitting in our couch at home, with the police, just waiting for me to turn up.

"Kid?"

I give him an address. I hope it's the right one, that I still remember. I haven't been there a lot, and it was over two years ago since the last time.

"'Kay," the guy says. "You have to point me the right directions."

I do. As we drive along familiar streets the knot in my stomach tightens and loosens up, I feel nauseous and dizzy, and one time, just when we pass a street close to my own, I want to scream at him to pull over. I'm so close now, but I can't ... I can't let them find me, take me away again. I will have to contact my brothers later.

"Over there," I finally point. The guy stops the car, looking at me a bit curiously.

"You live here?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

He looks at me as he doesn't believe me, but then he shrugs. "Take care, then."

I nod. "Thanks," I say, trying to sound like I really mean it, because I do. I open the door and jump out, gritting my teeth against the pain. I close the car door, and wait until he has driven away before I limp up to the front door. I knock, but no one answers. I knock harder, hoping someone will be home.

I jump when the door opens and Tim Shepard suddenly stares down at me.

"C-curly home?" I ask him, and he squints his eyes.

"Sodapop?" he says, sounding really unsure.

I shake my head. "It's Ponyboy."

* * *

_Pony's back in Tulsa!_

_Thank you so much for reading & reviewing and everything, really - I hope you know how much I appreciate your support!  
_


	26. The Runaway

**On a Long Road**

**26. The Runaway  
**

Tim Shepard raises an eyebrow, but that's all he does to show he's surprised to see me.

"Youngest Curtis," he says slowly, leaning against the door frame. "I heard you were in a foster home." He looks me up and down, then frowns slightly.

"Is Curly home?" I hurry to repeat.

"Curly? No." He doesn't offer anything else. I just stand there, not knowing what to do. I can't ask him to invite me in, I'm not even sure I want to go inside of his house if Curly's not here. Not that I know him that well anymore, but at least he used to sort of be a friend.

"I... um."

He's waiting patiently. At least I hope so. I take a deep breath.

"I kind of ran away," I tell him.

He snickers. "Kind of."

"I can't go home... in case the state's there. My social worker. She might be there."

He still doesn't say anything, and I get nervous. I take a step back, nearly falling when my weight lands on my bad leg. I slip out a curse because I can't cry. Not here.

"Your brothers don't know about this?" Tim asks.

I shake my head, not trusting my voice. I dare to look up and meet his gaze again, and he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine. Come in, then."

He turns around and walks inside, leaving the door wide open. I hesitate at first, thinking that maybe this is a bad idea. I don't know Tim; I haven't met him since the rumble with the Socs. But he has always been nice to me before, and he was Dally's friend. I hope I can trust him.

The house smells like beer and cigarette smoke. It's not as dirty as I thought it would be, but it's still messy, with beer cans, pizza cartons and other trash on the coffee table. A guy lies snoring in the couch, with a bandage that covers half of his face. Tim steps up to him and kicks his thigh, and the guy wakes up with a jolt.

"The fuck?" he mutters sleepily, blinking up at Tim with his good eye.

"Go home," Tim says to him. Then he sits down in an armchair, only watching as the guy sits up with a grunt. I don't recognize him, but I guess he's a part of Tim's gang. He doesn't protest against the treatment, just yawns, then picks up a pair of keys from the table, meeting my eyes briefly as he rises and walks out without a word. The front door slams behind him.

"Sit," Tim says to me. I think it's more of an order than anything else, but I'm so tired I'm only happy to oblige. I cross the floor and sink down onto the now empty couch, staring down at the book in my hands.

"You look like hell, kid."

I nod. "Yeah, I know."

I watch him as he picks up a cigarette pack and shakes it, then drops it to pick up another one. Satisfied this time, he pulls out a stick and puts it in his mouth. I try not to stare too hard, remembering my last cigarette. Just before Aidan...

I take a shaky breath and force my thoughts somewhere else. I try to take in the living room instead, what's in here; a couch, two armchairs, a TV that looks to be broken as a crack travels down the screen-

"What's that?" I turn my head and Tim nods at my hands. I'm surprised by how friendly he sounds.

"Um. A book."

He laughs softly. "Yeah. You're the brainy Curtis, right?"

I don't know what to answer to that, so I just shrug. Darry is as smart as me, and in my eyes, Soda is too. Just in another way.

Tim leans back, letting the cigarette dangle between his fingers. "So. You ran away."

He doesn't say it as a question, but I know it is. Tim's a leader, and if I didn't know it before, I would be able to tell by the way he acts. He wants answers, and he's probably used to not even having to ask for them.

"Somethin'... somethin' happened," I say, clearing my throat. It's hard to talk, I'm so thirsty, and my empty stomach aches.

"Figured that out already."

I avert my gaze. I don't want to talk about what happened. Not with him, not with anyone.

"It was just bad there," I decide to say, closing my eyes hard when an image of Aidan overwhelms me. His eyes when he died...

I swallow, urging the slight string of panic away, urging my tears not to start to fall. When I think I manage, I open my eyes again and look at Tim. He just watches me silently until I squirm, not knowing if I should say anything else, but I just can't.

My stomach grumbles and I put my hand on it, pressing slightly. It feels wrong to be hungry, when Aidan is dead. I wonder if someone will take care of him. If someone will go to his funeral. If someone else other than me will miss him.

"I'm gonna call your brothers," Tim finally says, and my insides make a flip. He rises from the armchair and walks up to the phone, lifting the receiver. He looks at me.

I rabble our phone number, guessing that is what he wants, and he punches the letters in, quietly waiting. I have butterflies as big as elephants in my stomach, and then Tim turns his back at me and says "Hi. It's Tim," and I know someone has picked up in the other end.

I put the book on the table and drag my legs up to my chest, curling my arms around them. My heart beats so hard. It feels like I'm going to throw up. I quickly cover my mouth with my hand and rush up, somehow making my way to the bathroom. I hardly have the time to close the door and open the toilet lid until I start to gag. I'm too empty though, nothing comes up, but the gags come in convulsions and sweat starts to trickle down my face. I gasp for air between every heave, grip around the porcelain with one hand while pushing my hair away from my face with the other.

When my body finally calms down and stops trying to get rid of nothing, I stand up all shaky and limp over to the sink. The old pipes in the house make a sound as I turn on the tap. I wash my hands and face with cold water, wondering a little about the bump and bruise just above my right eyebrow. I rub them, not knowing when I got them.

There's no towel, so I use toilet paper to dry myself, before limping slowly out into the living room again.

"Hell if I know," I hear Tim say into the receiver. "He just showed up."

I sit down on the couch. I wonder who he's speaking to; Darry or Soda, what they're thinking now. What Tim told them while I was in the bathroom.

He hangs up after just a couple of minutes, turning around and crossing his arms as he leans against the wall.

"They comin'?" I ask quietly.

"Right away."

I nod, feeling even more nervous. I guess I will have to think about what to say to them. I realize I don't want to say anything - I just want them to take me home, so I can crawl into my bed and sleep and forget that anything even happened. But that's not possible - I can't go home. Maybe I never can go home again.

Tim takes the armchair, and then we just sit in silence, waiting. My mouth feels dryer with every second that passes. I should have drunk something when I was in the bathroom.

"Can... can I have a glass of water?"

Tim gestures with his head. "In the kitchen."

I rise and limp out of there. The counter is filled with dirty dishes, and what must be todays dinner still stands on the table, pots and plates and everything. Darry would never let it look like this at our place.

I open a cupboard, then another one before I find a clean glass. I fill it to the rim with cold water, and then I gulp it down, fast. It tastes better than anything. I drink one glass more, and then one more, until it feels like I'm going to throw up again. I put the glass down and take some deep breaths. I know I need to try and keep it down.

The front door opens and closes, and I stiffen, wondering how fast they drove over here, but the new voice from the living room doesn't belong to any of my brothers. I'm not sure who it is, and I almost regret coming here. Maybe I should have gone to Two-Bit's.

I stay where I am until I hear the front door again, and then Tim shows up in the doorway, giving me an odd look. I rub my hands off my jeans, feeling embarrassed.

"What's that you got on your clothes?" he suddenly says. "Looks like blood to me."

I look down. The spots are rusty-colored by now, it could pass as dirt, too, but I guess he's so used to blood that he recognizes it everywhere. For the first time I realize I've got it on my jeans too and not just my t-shirt. Aidan's blood. It's everywhere. I start to feel light-headed.

Someone grips my arm, and then I find myself sitting down on a kitchen chair.

"Are you gonna tell me what the hell happened that made you come here?" Tim says, his face close to mine as he leans down. His eyes burn with something, it's not really anger, but I can't tell what it is. "I can take care of a lot of trouble, but I won't allow anyone to take it to my house and not tell me what's goin' on."

I know he's serious. I lift my hand to rub my eyes, but he quickly lifts his own and snatches my wrist, holding hard.

"I don't care who your brothers are, or how many times we have helped each other out, Ponyboy. You talk or you leave."

"He had a gun," I quickly slip out.

Tim frowns, seemingly surprised at first, but he catches himself fast. "A gun? Who?"

I swallow, knowing he won't accept anything else other than the truth. He can probably tell if I'm lying.

"Joey," I force myself to say.

"Joey? Who's that?"

"My... my foster parents son." I slump my shoulders and then it just pours out of me. "He shot Aidan and I thought he was gonna shoot me too, so I ran. I... I got a ride and came here."

Tim doesn't even bat an eye this time. "The guy he shot, is he hurt or dead?"

The words stock in my throat. "He's... he's..." I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to speak the words. "I think he's dead."

Tim's quiet for a long time, and I have to look up again.

"Where did this happen? Who knows about it?" Tim's grip tightens around my arm.

"I don't know." I take a shuddered breath. "I lived outside of Oklahoma City."

"I don't want the fuzz comin' here snoopin' around. Did you tell anyone you would come here?"

I shake my head quickly. "No. I didn't. Just the guy who drove me here but I never said your name."

"And who was that? Who drove you?"

"Just some guy. I don't know his name."

Tim lets go of me, but he doesn't stop looking at me. I fidget on my seat, thinking where to go if he wants to kick me out now. But then I remember that Darry and Soda are on their way. I can wait on the curb until they show up, and then -

- and then nothing will be alright anyway. Nothing. I will still be in the custody of the state, a runaway. What if this makes us lose in court? I can't stand the thought of going back to the first boys home, being locked in because of this. It wasn't my fault that I had to run. It's so unfair if I have to go to the boys home because of Joey... and then I feel bad for even thinking it, because Aidan didn't stand a chance at all - that's what's really unfair. I shouldn't complain at all, at least I'm alive.

I quickly wipe my eyes before Tim sees I'm all tear-eyed, but when I look up he's not in the kitchen anymore.

I stay in my seat until I hear a knock on the front door again, and this time I just know who it is. I feel their presence. I hear them asking for me, but I can't move, I just grip the seat of the chair and wait, feeling so nervous but I don't really know why, and then they are in the kitchen doorway, hesitating just for a short moment.

"Hey," I say quietly, and they stride the floor. Soda is the fastest, and he grips my arms, sitting on his heels in front of me. His face shows a lot of different emotions, I can't pick which is the strongest - the anger, the worry, his happiness to see me.

"Shit, Pony, I can't believe you're here in Tulsa. We almost didn't believe Tim. How did you even get here? What happened?"

Not again, I think when my eyes swim over.

"Pony, what's wrong?" Darry says, concerned.

I can only shake my head, feeling his hand in the back of my neck. Soda's eyes scan me, and he frowns when his gaze lands on the bump on my forehead. He lifts his hand and lets his thumb carefully trace it.

"He hit you again?" he asks hard. "Pony? Did Mr. Davis hit you again? Is that why you're here?"

Before I can answer, Darry narrows his eyes. "What did you say?"

Soda is so angry he's shaking. He rises to his feet, turns to Darry. "He's abused in that home, Darry!"

Darry looks at me with a horrified face, and I shake my head quickly, wide-eyed. "No, it wasn't like that."

"He's lyin'," Soda exclaims. "I know he is. I shouldn't... shit, I shouldn't have let it go last time."

"Last time?" Darry sounds baffled.

"When me and Steve went to see him? Remember that day the DX was closed because of the water leak?"

"That was two weeks ago!"

"I know. I'm so stupid. I didn't want to believe it, I wanted to believe what Pony told me."

"What are you saying, Sodapop?"

Soda throws out with his hands. "I'm sayin' Pony had bruises then too. I just knew somethin' wasn't right, but he kept sayin' he fell out of his bed. What was I supposed to do?"

Darry's eyes harden. "You could have told me. You should have! Christ, Soda, what on earth were you thinking?"

Soda shakes his head while taking a step back, then dragging a hand through his hair. "I wanted him to be all right. That's all I wanted. He told me... he told me he was okay. He promised he didn't lie!"

They both turn to me. Soda with a pleading expression, but Darry looks angry. At me or Soda or something else, I don't know.

"I want to know exactly what's going on," he says. He tries his best to sound calm, but he doesn't succeed. "Pony, what... why? If something was wrong, why didn't you call? You could have called us, we would have picked you up, you know that."

I bite my lip and Darry sinks down in front of me. "Tell me the truth," he demands gently. "No lies this time, Ponyboy. You have run away and that's... that's serious. I know you wouldn't have done it without a good reason, but if I will be able to fix this, you have to talk to me."

"It wasn't Mr. Davis," I say quietly. "He never hit me."

"Someone did," Soda urges, refusing to let it go.

"It was just fights." I look away. "I fought with Joey sometimes." I shudder, just by mentioning his name again. I don't want to even think of him.

"Pony," Darry says firmly. "I don't believe that."

I open my mouth and close it. I know I need to tell them, but then they will get angry at me, for not telling them before. I should have. If I had told them, maybe Aidan would still be alive.

"He... he used to hit me."

Soda makes a sound, but Darry's face reveals nothing, although I can see that he has to struggle to keep it that way. "Mr. Davis?" he asks carefully.

"No. Not Mr. Davis. Joey."

"Joey used to hit you?" Darry repeats my words, and suddenly I feel like I'm just a little kid.

"I just... he's stronger than me. I couldn't do anythin'."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

I feel my cheeks flush. "'Cause it was embarrassing. He's... I should have just fought back."

"Listen to me, Ponyboy," Darry says seriously. "I would have done anything if I just knew. You shouldn't have to fight back against someone who tries to hurt you. Especially when the state says you're supposed to be safe there."

"Yeah..."

"You should have told me."

"I know."

"It's a bit late now, but I will call both Mr. Parker and Ms. West tomorrow-" he must see my expression, because he interrupts himself, then hastily explains. "You know I'll need to call her, but I promise to make sure you don't have to go back to the Davis', okay? Whatever happens, we're going to court in just a few weeks and then you'll be home for good. Okay? We'll work this out."

They don't know. They don't know anything, but I don't know how to tell them.

"Where... where should I sleep tonight?" I ask them instead. "I can't go home, I don't want them to come and get me."

"If someone from the state shows up, we can tell them you ain't there," Darry says. "Or maybe we can call Two-Bit."

"They know Two-Bit is our friend. Don't they know his address?"

Darry shakes his head. "I doubt it."

"Was that why you came here instead of home?" Soda wonders, and I nod. Then he frowns. "How did you even get here, Pony? It's a long way."

"Um... I hitch-hiked."

A shadow moves in the corner of my eyes, and I glance at the kitchen entrance, seeing Tim standing there. He takes a step inside.

"Maybe you should tell them what you told me," he says. "The real reason you ran away."

I suddenly feel terrified. "I... I can't. I don't want to!"

Darry rises to his feet, looking between me and Tim with a frown. Soda looks puzzled as I shake my head frantically.

"What reason?" he wonders. "Was there another reason?"

"Ponyboy said that other kid had a gun," Tim says, sounding so casual he could just as well be talking about something else. "He-"

"No," I whine. "I just want everythin' to be all right." Soda steps closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. I hide my face in my hands as I listen to Tim continue talking, not caring at all about my outburst. Soda's hand grips tighter, and I hear him curse lowly when Tim says that according to me, some other kid is dead.

If I hold my eyes closed and pretend, I think I will manage this. So I do. I don't look up, I don't answer when Darry tries to talk to me when Tim is done. I feel how someone shakes me lightly but I try to push them away with my elbow.

"Ponyboy, is that what happened?" Darry says, his voice hoarse. "What you told Tim?"

I nod behind my hands.

"Shit," Soda whispers. "Christ, Darry..."

"Are you okay?" Darry asks me, trying to pry my hands away.

I hesitate, but then I shake my head, making a little sound, almost like a giggle. How can he even ask me that? No, I'm not okay. Once again, it feels like I'm going to be sick. I quickly drop my hands and get up onto my feet, pushing Darry backwards. I guess he's so surprised with my actions that I actually manage to get him out of my way. I limp fast up to the sink, and the water I drank before comes up immediately.

I grip around the counter, barely able to stand up as I heave. My leg really, really hurts and I'm a little afraid. It wasn't this bad before.

Soda must sense something, or maybe he just wants to be close, because he suddenly stands there, holding me as I wipe my mouth with my arm, feeling exhausted.

"Pony, can you stand?" he asks me quietly, and then I realize I'm really leaning heavily on him.

"My leg hurts," I mumble.

"What happened to your leg?"

I don't answer, and I can see the way he looks at Darry. My oldest brother nods, and I can't help but wonder what kind of silent conversation they have between them.

"Thanks for calling, Tim," Darry says tiredly.

They shake hands and Tim nods. "Anytime."

It seems like they think it's time to leave. We go outside, Soda helping me the whole time. Our truck stands parked on the curb, and they help me climb into it. I lean back, breathing in the familiar scent. They used to take Steve's car when they came to see me, so it has been a long time since I sat on this seat. It almost feels like home.

As Darry puts the key into the ignition, Soda tries to place a hand on my forehead, but I swat it away.

"Pony, let me check," he pleads.

"Why?"

"'Cause..." he trails off, takes a deep breath. "I just..."

"You don't have to," I say hollow. "I'm okay now."

"Don't tell me that," he snaps, and earns a strict "Soda!" from Darry.

"What, Darry?" Soda leans forward to be able to glare at him across me. "Does he look okay to you?"

"You have to take it easy," Darry tries, but that jut makes Soda work himself up even more.

"Easy? Take it easy with what? That my brother was nearly killed? That Pony was nearly shot to death? You can try and take it _easy_-"

I close my eyes, wishing he would just shut up about it. I don't want to hear it.

"Soda, please," Darry says, and I feel how the car turns to the left instead of right at the end of the street. I sit up straighter.

"This is not the way home," I mumble suspiciously.

Darry doesn't look at me. "We have to take you to the hospital," he says firmly.

I slump. "No, Darry..."

"Yes, Pony. After what you told us... I just have to make sure you're fine. You're shocked. And I want every sign of abuse reported." This time he turns his head slightly to meet my gaze. "It's better we do it before the state comes and tries to take you away again. We can use it as evidence against them. Hopefully Mr. Parker can help us tomorrow already, there's no way I'm letting you leave with a social worker again. Even if we have to leave Tulsa for that," he adds, determined.

All my thoughts just swirl in my head. Leaving Tulsa?

"But I don't have any bruises now," is all I manage to retort. "I don't think it will show. Can we please not go to the hospital?"

"No bruises?" Soda chimes in. "What about the bump? And you're fuckin' limping!"

"Yeah but that's because I got hit by the car." I cringe, closing my eyes and biting my lip. I can't believe I just said that. It just slipped out, and of course, their reactions come fast.

"You what?" both Darry and Soda throws out.

"It was an accident," I try weakly. "When I ran. I know it sounds bad but it wasn't, the car barely touched me."

Soda leans back and closes his eyes. "I_ can't_..." he says, but then he gets quiet.

"Darry," I plead, but he shakes his head.

"We're going to the hospital," he just says again.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading! I have to admit I'm kind of shocked by the response I get for this, I could never even imagine this when I started it. You are awesome, I can't thank you enough! _

_And no worries, I will not abandon this story :)  
_

_I also want to say sorry if Soda is OOC in this story. I try hard to keep everyone IC, but this is the way I see Soda and I don't think I can write him differently._


	27. Hospital Visit

**On a Long Road**

** 27. Hospital Visit**

Soda and I sit on plastic chairs as Darry stands by the counter at the nurses station, talking to a woman there. I watch as she hands him some papers and a pen, and he nods a 'thank you' before walking over to us. His face is unreadable as he sits down next to me, scans the papers in his hand and then starts to fill them in.

Name: _Ponyboy Michael Curtis_

Birthdate: _July 22, 1952_

He hesitates over the address and I look away. Shit. Small things like that really hurt. But when I glance back, I see that he has written our address, and that simple action makes me feel a bit better.

With nothing to do, I look around the waiting room. Fortunately we're almost the only ones here, and we're far away from the ward where Johnny died. I wouldn't have been able to stand being close to that part of the hospital, it feels bad enough as it is just being here. Although, my leg is making me a bit nervous, and I guess it won't be so bad checking what's wrong with it. I carefully rub where the car hit me.

Soda suddenly stands up. "I'm gonna make a phone call," he mumbles, then strides the floor in just his socks to the payphone at the other end of the room. I sigh and turn my gaze to the magazines lying on the table in front of me, and then I stiffen. I just realize I forgot Johnny's book at Tim's place. I really hope I can get it back.

A clock ticks annoyingly on the wall, and an older man in the corner coughs badly into his napkin. Nurses pass by now and then, talking lowly to each other, but no one comes for me.

I look back at Soda, who stands with one hand in his pocket, his head dipped, talking fast. Now and then he glances at me. I bet it's Steve he's talking to, and that it's about me. I wonder if Steve maybe tells him he already knew about Joey, but I doubt it. Soda would be so mad at him if he did, and Steve's smarter than to upset him now.

Darry finishes with the papers at the same time Soda hangs up. He walks back to us, but he doesn't sit down.

"Steve will call Two-Bit, and then they're headin' over," he says quietly.

His eyes are still red from all the crying he did in the car. He just started after I told them about the car hitting me, and then it was like he couldn't stop. It was almost scary, the way he huddled by the window, hiding his face while his shoulders shook. It was obvious how hard he tried to keep it down, but didn't manage. I didn't know what to say, and I think Darry didn't either, because he just continued to drive with his eyes on the road. Soda calmed down as soon as we had parked, though, but he's still not himself.

I stare at the floor. I wish this night will be over soon, even if I have no idea of what will happen next. Now when Darry and Soda know everything, I'm suddenly aware that it won't stop with them. I will need to speak with the fuzz too, about what happened. What I saw Joey do. But I don't even want to think about it anymore, let alone talk about it. I wish I could just forget. And maybe I'm wrong, maybe Aidan was alive after all, I'm no doctor. It wasn't really like it was with Johnny. With him, I was sure, it was so obvious when he stopped breathing, but Aidan... maybe he was just unconscious. Maybe he didn't move was because of that reason. And I was in a hurry to get away, so maybe...

But I know it's just wishful thinking. It's the same with all these hiding me-plans, or leaving Tulsa. I know we can't do that, we have no place to go. Where would we get the money? It's here both Darry and Soda have jobs, it's here our house with all the memories lies. And the state would probably find me eventually anyway, making it even worse for my brothers. I guess it would even count as kidnapping if we left.

"Ponyboy Curtis?"

The voice jerks me up from my thoughts and I look up at the nurse saying my name. She's young with a bright smile, despite the late hour. We rise, and I lean on Darry as we follow her through a pair of glass doors, limping even worse now. Having Soda's shoes on my feet doesn't make it easier either, since they are a size too big for me.

The nurse takes us down the corridor and into an examination room, where she tells me to climb up on the table. As she leaves to go and get the doctor, Darry helps me up while Soda stays in the background. His face so different from how it used to be. I wish he would smile, I hate that I am the one making him look so sad.

We have to wait about ten minutes before a doctor shows up. He shakes hands with Darry and Soda, then me, introducing himself as Dr. Jacobs.

"No parents here today?" he asks, looking over the papers Darry filled in, and I avert my gaze.

"They're dead," Darry answers a bit strained. "We're his brothers."

"I assume you're his guardian, then?"

The nurse hands me a gown, and I take it while staring at Darry. He rubs the back of his neck, looking disturbed.

"Actually, no. He's in the custody of the state."

I had hoped he would lie about that. Dr. Jacobs frowns, but before he has the time to say anything, Darry says, "Can we talk outside?"

The doctor looks at me for a moment, then back at Darry. "Well, I guess that won't be a problem."

The two walk out together with the nurse. Soda looks at the closed door, then moves to stand in front of me.

"Maybe you should change," he says quietly, but his eyes has something conniving in them. I know he's up to something, but I agree anyway.

"Okay."

He helps me drag my t-shirt over my head, and I notice how he stares at my skin, probably looking for bruises. Without finding any, he finally holds up the gown so I can stick my arms into it. I leave my jeans on for now.

Soda takes my shirt in his hands, stroking absentmindedly with his thumbs over the spots.

"Throw it away," I blurt out, and his eyes narrow as he looks at me. "It's... you know, Aidan's..." I trail off, not able to say it.

"Yeah, sure," he agrees fast, dumping it into the trashcan in the corner.

He returns, and without a word jumps up next to me on the table. He places his arm around my shoulders, and I lean myself against him. I wish I could feel safe like this but I don't.

"What do you think Darry's tellin' the doctor?" I ask quietly. "He ain't tellin' him everythin', is he?"

Soda holds me even tighter. He must feel how tense I am, and I really try to relax but it's impossible.

"I don't know," he finally answers. "I think he'll try to get him on our side."

"I'm scared, Soda," I admit, closing my eyes. "What's gonna happen now?"

"We'll take you home with us as soon as you're finished here. " He sounds determined. "Don't worry about it, okay? You don't have to worry about anythin'."

I nod, but I don't believe him. My brain keeps working and working, giving me all the pictures back. Joey's eyes. The gun in his hand. All the blood... I can still feel it on my hands, even now when it's long gone, washed away at the bus station.

"I saw Joey shoot Aidan," I suddenly hear myself say, but it doesn't sound like my voice.

Soda inhales, then breathes out slowly, pained. "I know, kiddo."

"He was goin' to shot me. He told me that," I ramble on, in a need to get it out. "He didn't want to kill Aidan, he wanted to kill me."

"Shit, Pony..."

"I don't know if he just missed. I don't know if he pointed it at me." I take a shuddered breath. "Maybe he should have. He should have killed me, it's my fault-"

Soda lets go of me, turns slightly to be able to grip my face between his hands, and then forces me to look at him. "Don't you ever talk like that!" he says. "Please, Pony. I don't know what I would have done, if... if..." His voice almost cracks.

"But why does everyone have to die? It feels like I'm the one killing everyone-"

"No. Shit. You know that ain't true, Pony. Tell me you know that."

I want to believe him but it's hard. Right now, all I can see is my own guilt in four people's deaths. How can it not be me, when I was the only one walking out alive? Four times.

"But Soda," I try again, but he shakes his head, his palms warm against my temples.

"No, Pony. Stop it. Just shut up."

"I'm sorry."

"You have nothin' to say sorry for." He drops his hands, grips my wrist instead. "Okay?"

"Okay."

We're quiet for a while, but I don't feel finished yet.

"What if the fuzz think I did it, then?" I voice another fear, but Soda frowns at the thought.

"They won't think that. The police workin' with stuff like this, they're smart. They know what to look at. Evidence and all that shit."

"But they shot Dally. We shouted at them that it wasn't loaded but they shot him anyway. They don't like us."

The door is suddenly flung open, interrupting us, and Darry steps inside. He's angry, I can tell by just looking at him.

"Dar?" Soda asks unsure as Darry approaches.

"They won't examine Pony without a guardian's signature," Darry fumes, dragging a hand through his short hair in frustration.

"But we're here!" Soda protests weakly. "We're his brothers, can't one of us-"

"We're not his guardians," Darry cuts him off.

Soda blinks and a minute of utter silence passes by.

"We're still his brothers," Soda finally mumbles. " And you have been his guardian, you should-"

"It doesn't work that way. Dr. Jacobs understood our situation, but he said he can't do anything without calling social services first. It's the law."

Soda's face hardens and he rises. "Then lets go. Before they get here."

"Pony's hurt. We can't, Soda, he needs to be checked."

"So we're just gonna sit here and let them come and get him again? Is that what you're sayin', Darry? 'Cause I hell won't let them do that. C'mon, Pony!" He grabs my arm, and I jump down, but my leg buckles under me as I hit the floor.

"Shit," I swear, biting my lip as only Soda holds me upright. Darry quickly takes my other arm, and they help me sit back up again. Soda lets go of me immediately, turning his back on us.

"Soda," Darry starts, but trails off, not sure what to say.

xXx

My brothers argue quietly in a corner, Soda about why they didn't take me to our old family doctor instead. I'm not sure that would change anything, though, even if Soda seems to think that. I guess the law covers his practice too.

I stop listening to them. I have lied down on my back now, but it's not a real bed and the surface feels hard after a while. I don't care. I just stare up at the ceiling, waiting for... I don't even know anymore. The doctor? Ms. West? Leaving my brothers again? Maybe I should try to brace myself for that, I know it will happen.

I place a hand on my stomach. It's kind of weird that I don't feel hungry at all, since I haven't eaten for over twenty four hours. Not smoked either. I feel empty in another way, though, but somehow that's alright. Better than the other feelings having a war inside me. Maybe I should try to stop caring, and then whatever happens will be okay. Or at least not bad. It would be nothing, I wouldn't feel _anything_.

But my thoughts continue to go back to Aidan all the time, making it impossible. And Joey... what will happen to him? I remember how it looked like he had been crying. I remember his mom's words to me, how maybe she's the one that was pushing him over the edge. I wonder what they are thinking now, his parents, when their son is a killer, their fosterson is dead and the other... well, that's me. I'm here, and I won't return to them.

It's strange how life can change so fast. Like when Mom and Dad died. Just in an instant our life was thrown over, upside down, a nightmare for a while until we slowly started to realize it was possible to live on. Darry took over, became our guardian, and- it feels like something stabs my stomach. Darry only had custody over me for ten months, while the state have now had it for twenty. Is that a bad thing? What will the judge think about that? Maybe he doesn't want to give it back to Darry because of it?

Someone turns the door knob and steps inside. Darry and Soda get quiet, and I sit up, my eyes wide when I see who's coming. It's the social worker who came with Ms. West that day they took me. Even if more than one and a half years have passed since then, I would recognize his face anywhere. Mr. Johnson. I feel how I slump.

The doctor follows him, along with the nurse.

"You can go. I'll take over from now on," Mr. Johnson says to Darry, turns to the doctor and starts talking about me like I wasn't in the room. I hastily look at Darry, who takes a step closer to me before interrupting him.

"I don't think so," he retorts coldly. "We're staying."

Mr. Johnson smirks. "You're not needed. I can handle the boy."

I drag in a sharp breath, and both my brothers seem ready to explode.

"Sure as hell we're stayin'," Soda says harshly, and I can see how he clenches his fists. I just stare at him, never having seen him like this before. He has been angry before, but now it's true hate glowing in his eyes.

"The boy is my patient," Dr. Jacobs hurries to say, as if trying to calm things down. "I think it's best for him is that his brothers stay."

Mr. Johnson frowns, but at least he doesn't protest. I just wish the doctor had told _him_ to leave instead, there's no way I will let anyone check me over as long as he's in the room. I cross my arms in front of me, almost feeling naked, despite my jeans and hospital gown.

"Very well," Mr. Johnson says after a while. "But what I really want to know is why Ponyboy is suddenly here in Tulsa with you, when he's supposed to be with his foster family." His eyes bore into mine. "You know running away only will lead to consequences for yourself."

Soda gapes. "You can't be fuckin' serious!" he throws out, and Darry reaches out and places a hand on his arm to stop him from walking closer.

"Ponyboy is not your responsibility anymore," Mr. Johnson says. "If he needs health care, his family will take care of that. This is not to your favor either. If you took him out of his foster home without permission-"

"He was nearly killed there!" Soda shouts, ignoring Darry completely, so Darry drags him back, just to take a step forward himself to stand in front of Soda.

"Do you even know what happened at the Davis' place?" Darry looks hard at Mr. Johnson. "Or didn't you even care to find out?"

"We got a phone call to our line from the hospital, saying that Ponyboy Curtis was in need for a medical examination. That's the only information I have at the moment."

I give Soda an uncertain glance. What does he mean? I thought they were already out looking for me.

"You don't know that the Davis' son Joey shot and killed their other foster kid and that Pony had to run for his life?" Darry says, even harder this time. "That's why he's here. He didn't run away."

Mr. Johnson looks a bit taken aback, opening his mouth and then closing it. He would have looked stupid, if I wasn't so confused about the whole situation. He tries to make eye contact with me again, but I make sure to look away this time.

"I haven't heard of it," he finally admits to Darry. "Are you even sure the boy isn't lying?"

"I ain't lyin'," I mumble. I feel cold. How can he not know? Wouldn't the police call them right away and tell them?

Or don't they know either? The thought startles me, but it feels like it can be true. Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Davis aren't home yet. Her dad was ill, and they said they didn't know when they would be back. I didn't call the police and I'm sure Joey didn't either.

What if Aidan is still lying on our bedroom floor, and no one has taken care of him? I feel sick about how selfish I am. I know I should have gone to the police the first thing I did, but instead, I just fled home.

I'm too wrapped up inside my own head to listen to what the others are talking about. Not until Mr. Johnson says he's going to make some phone calls and disappears out through the door, I pay attention.

"Soda?" I mumble, since he stands closest.

He turns around to face me. "What is it, Pony?"

"Did he leave? Will he come back?"

He looks very uncomfortable. "I think so."

"I don't want to go with him."

"You won't," he tries to assure me.

I nod, even though I know it's not his decision. I think that my brothers will try to stop him, and if Two-Bit and Steve are here, too, there is a safety in numbers... I frown, suddenly remembering that Soda called them more than an hour ago.

"Soda? Where's Two-Bit and Steve?"

"Shit," Soda curses, rubbing a temple. "I forgot about them!"

"Go get them," Darry says, and Soda looks at me briefly, waiting until I nod again before slipping out through the door. I play with the thought of going with him, hiding somewhere, it wouldn't be impossible in a big place like this.

"Okay, can we have a look at you now, Ponyboy?" Dr. Jacobs says. Darry moves to the side to let him and the nurse come closer. "Can you tell me what happened?"

I know that Darry already wrote it down on the papers, but I tell him anyway, about the car hitting me. I have to lie down as he checks the bump on my forehead and lights a little lamp into my eyes. He nods a bit satisfied, then continues with lifting the gown and carefully pressing his fingertips down my ribs and stomach, asking if this hurt or that. I tell him 'no' every time.

"Does anything else hurt other than your leg?"

"No." I try to feel. "Maybe my feet a bit but I walked without my shoes on."

"Hm." He just watches me for a while. "Not your head? Not at all?"

"No."

"That's good. I think we should do a full x-ray, though, just in case. I doubt you have any internal bleeding but I want to be sure. Can you please take off your jeans?"

I do it with Darry's help. It's the first time I see how my leg really looks like. My thigh is blue from my hip down to my knee. It looks nasty.

Dr. Jacobs prods it carefully. "It's probably just some ruptured veins. It's nothing dangerous, but you will be a bit hurt and stiff for a few days. The bruising goes deep and it's very swollen right now, so try to keep yourself from walking too much."

"Okay."

"You seem to be a little dehydrated, too. I will put an IV in you to give you some fluids, and then send you down to the radiology department to look for fractures."

He walks up to the counter and the nurse leaves the room. Darry hands me my jeans again, and helps me get them on.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asks with a frown as I button them.

I look down, making a little shrug.

At the same time Soda comes back with our friends in tow. Two-Bit grins his usual smile, walks up to me and throws his arms around me.

"Kid's back in Tulsa," he laughs softly. Then he gets a little more serious, but still ruffles my hair as he always does. "I'm real glad you're okay, Ponyboy."

I meet Steve's gaze where he stands next to Soda. He looks a bit guilty, and I want to tell him not to be, but I can't, not when my brothers are here. It's not his fault, any of this. I was the one who told him to keep quiet. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets, looking around in the room with a suspicious glare.

The nurse walks in through the door, hands full. She cleans my abrasions and puts band aids on them, then picks up a needle. I look away and grip Soda's hand, as she slips it into my arm. She swaps the needle to a small, plastic tube that she tapes on my skin, then hangs a bag of fluids on a stand on wheels.

"Take these, please. It's for your pain." She hands me two white pills and a glass of water. I take them and swallow them without asking what they are.

xXx

After the x-rays, I'm taken to a room. Even if it's late, the others drag chairs up to my bed and sit down, and then Two-Bit digs out a pack of cards from his pocket.

"Still not know how to play, Ponyboy?" he teases me, and I snort at him while he shuffles and deals. I get a slightly uncomfortable feeling in my stomach as I pick up my cards from my lap, but I try not to show it. This is what we, Aidan and Joey and I, did, just before...

I try to shake the feeling off. This is different. This is with my family and friends, and I could really use the distraction.

"We can play gently," Steve smirks, elbowing Soda who grins big.

"No cheating," Darry says dryly to them, but he's smiling too.

I'm pretty quiet as we play, and it doesn't escape me how they all glance at each other or me now and then, how they chose to talk about subjects that are far away from what we-_ I_, have gone through. I see that every smile on Soda's face is mostly an act, every joke from Two-Bit carefully thought over before blurted out. Not even Steve is the same, and even though he still puts in his snarky remarks, I can tell he's holding back. I'm thankful for it, but it also makes me feel a bit uneasy. It almost reminds me more that things aren't like they should be, even though I know they mean the opposite with their actions.

It's almost midnight before Dr, Jacobs finally comes into the room, telling us the x-rays were fine. No internal damages or fractures. I'm relieved, it means I don't need a cast, but I frown when Darry stands up fast and takes the doctor aside. I can't hear what he's saying, but both of them look serious, and the doctor glances at me before answering. Figure they would talk about me. Dr. Jacobs nods and pats Darry's shoulder before leaving.

He passes an old nurse by the door, and I don't even have the time to ask Darry what the talking was about, before she tells my brothers and friends they have to leave.

"It's late, I can't look through my fingers about this anymore. You'll have to come back during visiting hours tomorrow."

"Well, I'm stayin'," Soda says stubbornly, leaning back and crossing his arms. The nurse wiggles with her finger, then points at the door.

"Young man, we have rules at this hospital. You all need to leave this room, or I will call security."

"Pony's been going through a lot," Darry says a bit harshly. "He needs us here."

She snorts at that. "He needs his sleep, and I can't see how he will get it if you boys remain in here. You are welcome back at ten in the morning."

I can see how they hesitate, not knowing if it's worth it to put up a fight with her. I almost panic at the thought of them leaving me, thinking that Mr. Johnson might come and get me as soon as Darry and Soda are not here. But I know I'm the only one who can stop this before it gets out of hand.

"It's okay," I hurry to say. "I'm... I'm pretty tired anyway."

Soda's eyes narrow. "You sure, Pony?"

"Yeah. I mean, you won't leave, will you? Just... you will be here, right?"

"I can stay."

"I mean if you stay in the waitin' room or somethin'?" I glance at the nurse, hoping she won't protest against that too, but she's quiet. "If you don't mind," I add a bit lowly.

I know none of them want to leave, but they are aware of the options, too. If she calls security, they probably won't be allowed to stay inside the hospital at all.

"We'll be here as soon as they let us," Soda promises me before they pick up the cards to leave. I nod, not trusting my voice, and I manage not to cry as they hug me. I start as soon as they are outside, though, feeling all miserable.

I must have fallen asleep pretty quickly despite everything, since the next thing I know I'm woken up by a nurse with a breakfast tray.

I sit up and look at the food, trying to urge myself to eat. My stomach doesn't feel right, I'm nauseous, almost dizzy, but I pretend not to be. I pick up the sandwich and gnaw a little in the corner. Then I take a deep breath and just force it down my throat, then everything else on the plate, and I end the meal by drinking all the juice. I put my hand over my mouth, swallow a couple of times. It feels like everything wants to come up again, so I quickly lie down, trying to relax.

At ten o'clock, my brothers and friends finally come back. They all look tired after spending a night in the waiting room. I feel bad for it, but I needed to be selfish. Besides, I know they wouldn't have gone home anyway, even if I had said that they could.

When the door opens again half an hour later, I think we all expect the doctor. But Darry rises with a frown, and I turn my head.

Ms. West stands in the doorway, looking a bit uncertain at first, but then she strides the floor with clicking heels.

"Good morning, Ponyboy." She gives me a weak smile. I just look at her while the others glare. Especially Soda.

"I heard what happened to you, and I'm so very sorry," Ms. West continues, sounding genuinely sad.

"He could've died," Soda snaps at her. "Ain't it time for you to let him come home now?"

She puts a hand to her chest. "It's a shock to us all. Of course we had no idea that anything like this would happen. It has been a good foster home for a long time."

"Like that matters now," Steve mutters, his eyes dark.

Ms. West looks at him a bit taken aback, like she wasn't expecting him to speak. But then she turns to Darry. "Joey Davis was arrested late last night. I thought you wanted to know."

I slump back, closing my eyes briefly.

"Have they got evidence against him?" Darry asks. "I want to make sure Pony is clear in this."

"Yes. The weapon belonged to Mr. Davis. Joey tried to blame Ponyboy at first, but-"

I sit up fast. "What? It wasn't me! I didn't do it!"

Soda hurries to place a hand on my arm. "We know that, Pony. Calm down."

I breathe hard, so upset. How could he even say something like that?

"There is no need to worry," Ms. West says calmly. "Joey has confessed."

It should be a relief, I guess, but the tension still lies thickly in the room. She can pretend all she wants she just came here to tell us, but I know she has another reason. I just wait for it to happen, and then it does.

"I have spoken to the doctors, too, and they say you are free to go today. I will sign you out as soon as you're ready, and then we can leave for the boys home."

Soda's hand grips harder around my arm.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading! I hope you still don't mind the long chapters, 'cause this got a little longer than planned..._

_Please review! :) _

_And I maybe was a little unclear last chapter - the water leak at the DX gave Soda and Steve a day off, so they drove to see Pony and then took him to the mall._


End file.
